IRISH  EEBELS 


ENGLISH    PRISONS: 


A  Record  of  Prison  Life. 


Bff 

ODONOVM  ROSSA, 


<•»        ■ 


New  Yoek  : 

P.  J.   KEJSTEDY, 

EXCELSIOR  CATHOLIC  PUBLISHING  HOUSE, 

5   Barclay  Street. 

1899. 


SUPPLEMENTARY  CHAPTER-1882. 


"United  Irishman"  Office, 
New  Yokk,  Jan.,  1882. 
Ten  years  have  rolled  over  my  head  since  I  wrote  the  last 
chapter  of  this  book,  and  that  chapter  shows  I  had  already  in 
America  got  into  trouble  and  into  unpopularity  with  the  Irish 
people,  all  on  account  of  my  having  become  acquainted  with 
General  Eyan  in  connection  with  Irish  revolutionary  affairs.  He 
offered  me  his  sword  and  his  services  to  fight  for  Ireland  when 
called  upon,  and  fight  bravely  I  believe  he  would,  as  bravely  as 
he  since  fought  and  fell  battling  for  the  freedom  of  another  op- 
pressed people  in  Cuba.  But  the  unpopularity  that  visited  me 
then  on  account  of  riding  in  General  Ryan's  carriage  at  the  Com- 
munist funeral  is  little  or  nothing  compared  to  that  which  visits  me 
now  on  account  of  my  not  riding  in  the  chariot  that  is  to  ride 
rough-shod  over  landlordism,  and  all  other  agencies  of  English 
tyranny  in  Ireland,  "  without  striking  a  blow,"  as  the  saying  is,  or 
as  the  Land  League  poet  sings : 

"  Land  for  the  landless  people, 
Land  without  striking  a  blow  ! " 

I  am  sorry  I  cannot  believe  in  getting  liberty  for  Ireland  so 
softly  and  sweetly,  and  I  am  sorry  that  I  forfeit  the  esteem  of  any 
of  my  people  on  account  of  my  firm  adherence  to  the  principles  of 
my  life,  and  the  principles  of  all  Irish  patriots — that  it  is  "by 
the  blows  alone  men  strike  in  their  strength,  the  chains  of  the 
tyrant  can  be  broken." 

England  is  at  her  tyrant  work  in  Ireland  now  as  ever ;  her 
Habeas  Corpus  Act  is  again  suspended — for  the  fiftieth  time  dur- 
ing this  century — her  jails  are  filled  with  our  people ;  her  soldiers 
and  police  shoot  down  men,  women,  and  children  ;  her  janizaries 
break  into  newspaper  offices,  smash  up  type  and  machinery,  and 
carry  off  to  prison  every  one  they  catch  on  the  premises. 

And  what  remedy,  and  what  resistance  ?  None — none  what- 
ever, save  the  appeals  of  the  leaders  in  prison,  and  out  of  prison, 
to  follow  on  the  agitation  on  the  line  of  "passive  resistance,"  to 
"keep  the  peace,"  and  not  to  "break  the  law."    It  looks  like 

taking  a  leaf  out  of  O'Connell's  4bopk,  and  cannot  be  better  described 

j?  j  j^  >f"| 

k*.J   £sa'   ij*   \J 


ii  Supplementary  Chapter — 1882. 

than   by  a  passage  from  a  leaf  of  John  Mitchel's  book,  "The 
Last  Conquest  of  Ireland  "  ; 

"The  people  believed  in  O'Connell's  power,  wisdom,  and  truth.  From  his 
prison  he  sent  weekly  messages  to  the  Repeal  Association  announcing  that  the 
independence  of  the  country  was  never  so  certain  ;  that  he  rejoiced  to  be  im- 
prisoned for  Ireland  ;  above  all,  that  he  implored  the  people  to  be  peaceful 
and  patient.  Peaceful  and  patient  they  were.  .  .  .  They  kept  the  '  peace ' 
as  their  Liberator  bade  them,  and  the  land  was  never  so  fiee  from  crime,  lest 
they  should  give  *  strength  to  the  enemy.' " 

The  leaders  of  the  Land  League  movement  in  Ireland  are  in 
prison  to-day.  From  their  prison  they  issue  a  manifesto  to  pay 
"no  rent" — a  manifesto  which  John  Mitchel  in  '48  said  would  be 
a  good  one  to  issue  to  ensure  a  general  resistance  and  general 
"rising"  of  the  Irish  people  against  the  enemy;  but  when  no 
fight  is  meant  now,  when  the  leader  says  the  man  is  a  liar  who 
says  there  is  any  fight  behind  his  movement,  I  can't  see  my  way  to 
the  freedom  of  Ireland  through  that  movement.  The  treasurer  of 
the  movement  has  to  take  up  his  residence  in  Paris,  and  he  writes 
and  telegraphs  from  there  to  America  that  the  landlords  of  Ireland 
are  completely  under  the  feet  of  the  tenantry.  And  notwithstand- 
ing such  writing  and  telegraphing,  the  Irish  papers  and  telegrams 
bring  us  the  news  daily  that  evictions  are  taking  place  in  every 
county  of  Ireland.  'Tis  sad.  It  would  not  be  sad  if  the  revolu- 
tionary element  of  Ireland  and  America  had  preserved  itself 
intact  these  few  years  past,  and  had  been  preparing  and  prepared 
for  the  present  crisis  ;  for  never  in  Irish  history  had  the  spirit  of 
resistance  to  landlord  law  in  Ireland  been  so  general,  and  the 
uprising  of  one  county,  with  one  victory  over  the  army  of  exter- 
minators, would  be  likely  to  bring  every  county  in  Ireland  to  its 
feet.  As  I  write  the  trouble  is  thick,  and  so  is  the  darkness  ;  I 
cannot  see  the  way  out  of  it ;  all  I  can  say  is,  "God  save  Ireland!" 

Eleven  years  have  elapsed  since  I  left  English  prisons.  1  have 
during  those  eleven  years  endeavored  to  follow  up  the  other  years 
of  my  life,  but  find  there  are  as  many  pains  and  purgatories  to  be 
encountered  here  in  the  advocacy  of  an  effective  policy  for  Ire- 
land's freedom  as  are  to  be  met  with  in  Ireland  or  England.  The 
less  said  on  this  head,  perhaps,  the  better ;  I  may  feel  myself  a 
man  face  to  face  with  the  enemy,  and  find  himself  only  a  pigmy 
in  patriotism  side  by  side  with  Irishmen  three  thousand  miles  away 
from  that  enemy.  For  the  purpose  of  furthering  the  aim  of  my 
life,  I  have,  since  I  came  to  America,  sought  admission  to  every 
society  having  an  Irish  name  or  an  Irish  object  in  view.  I  have 
been  refused  admission  to  some  because  of  my  character  as  an 
Irish  revolutionist ;  I  have  acquired  membership  in  others,  and 
am  working  to-day  as  one  of  the  Council  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood 
and  one  of  the  Council  of  the  United  Irishmen  ;  and  I  have  been 
expelled  from  one  Irish  society,  and  branded  by  that  expulsion  as 


Supplementary  Chapter — 1882.  iii 

*  a  traitor  to  Ireland/'  because  I  would  not  give  up  association 
with  the  Fenian  Brotherhood.  And  this  society,  the  council  of 
which  expelled  me,  claims  to  be  the  ultra-Irish  revolutionary 
society  of  America.     Wonders  will  never  cease  ! 

With  the  history  Irishmen  have,  or  ought  to  have,  by  heart,  it  is 
surprising  how  easy  it  is  to  lead  them  to  expect  redress  for  their 
grievances  from  the  Parliament  of  England — from  that  Parliament 
that  has  so  often  cajoled  and  deceived  them,  that  Parliament  whose 
proper  function  is  to  rivet  the  chains  by  which  they  are  held  in 
bondage.  I  don't  know  is  it  innate  slavery,  the  slavery  engen- 
dered in  the  Irish  blood  during  seven  hundred  years  of  subjection — 
I  don't  know  what  it  is  ;  but  there  it  is  again  at  the  very  present 
day — the  people  "agitating"  for  their  rights,  and  sending  good 
men  to  the  London  Parliament  to  get  them.  It  is,  to  my  mind, 
the  evading  and  avoiding  of  what  alone  will  ever  get  Irish  rights 
from  England — that  is,  fight  and  preparation  for  it. 

All  English  statesmen  and  historians  tell  us  that  it  is  fight  alone 
will  compel  England  to  give  up  Ireland.  The  ablest  living  one — 
James  Anthony  Froude — came  to  America  seven  or  eight  years 
ago  and  told  us  England  was  never  going  to  give  up  her  hold  of 
Ireland  until  she  was  beaten  to  her  knees.  I  was  listening  to  him 
saying  the  words.  I  believe  him,  but  I  also  believe  the  Irish  people 
are  able  to  beat  England  to  her  knees,  if  they  will  only  act  like 
men  and  meet  England  with  her  own  weapons — meet  her  with 
what  she  now  terms  "the  resources  of  civilization." 

Father  Tom  Burke  came  to  lecture  after  Froude,  and  I  heard 
him.  I  was  listening  to  him  say  that  when  Macaulay's  artist  stood 
sketching  the  ruins  of  St.  Paul's,  with  the  New-Zealand er  stand- 
ing on  the  broken  arch  of  London  Bridge,  then  might  there  be  a 
hope  for  Ireland's  freedom.  That,  in  plain  words  meant,  that 
when  London  was  burned  to  ashes  Ireland  would  be  free.  The 
words  struck  a  chord  in  my  own  mind  and  made  music,  and  I  have 
been  trying  to  beat  time  to  that  music  since.  I  say  very  plainly 
and  emphatically  that,  if  the  destruction  of  London  is  to  be  the 
price  of  Irish  freedom,  the  Irish  people  should  pay  that  price  for 
it.     Let  justice  be  done,  though  the  heavens  should  fall. 

If  Irishmen  will  wage  a  successful  war  against  England,  they 
will  have  to  fight  England  with  her  own  weapons.  Two  years  ago 
England  had  a  war  in  Kaffirland  and  Zulnland,  and  to  bring  the 
natives  to  their  knees — not  alone  to  their  knees,  but  to  their 
graves — England,  with  dynamite  and  other  destructive  "resources 
of  her  civilization,"  as  Gladstone  calls  them,  blasted  them  in  the 
very  caves  and  caverns  of  the  mountains  in  which  they  sought  re- 
fuge. Two  years  ago,  when  Gladstone  was  out  of  office,  and  in  op- 
position to  the  Disraeli  ministry,  he  said,  speaking  of  Ireland,  that 
an  act  of  eviction  was  an  act  of  war,  was  tantamount  to  a  sentence 
of  death.     Now,  under  his  own  ministry  this  very  da}7,  those  "  acts 


iv  Supplementary  Chapter — 1882. 

of  war,"  those  "sentences  of  death/'  are  executed  in  every  county 
in  Ireland,  and  if  the  indignation  and  retaliation  of  the  Irish  peo- 
ple would  set  London  and  other  English  cities  ablaze,  not  alone 
would  the  whole  Irish  race  all  over  the  world  rejoice,  but  the 
world  itself  and  the  victim  spirits  of  the  English-oppressed  na- 
tions of  the  earth  would  shout  "  Halleluiah  !  "  from  the  heavens. 

This  may  look  like  tall  talk,  but  it  is  no  taller  than  I  have  been 
trying  to  act  during  my  "banishment  from  Ireland.  England  has 
proclaimed  war  against  me ;  she  makes  me  an  outcast  on  the 
world,  and  forbids  me  to  tread  my  native  land,  and  I  have  made  no 
peace  with  England.  I  am  at  war  with  her,  and,  so  help  me  God  ! 
I  will  wage  that  war  against  her  till  she  is  stricken  to  her  knees  or 
till  I  am  stricken  to  my  grave.  What  if  I  have  become  an  Ameri- 
can citizen  ?  American  citizenship  does  not  imply  that  I  am  to 
renounce  my  sympathy  for  any  of  the  tyrant- stricken  peoples  of 
the  earth  or  withhold  my  assistance  from  them  ;  and  of  all  those 
oppressed  peoples  the  Irish  people  are  the  most  sorely  stricken 
and  are  cursed  with  the  most  cruel  tyranny.  I  can  never  be 
known  only  as  an  Irishman — I  don't  want  ever  to  be  known  but  as 
an  Irishman — but  even  were  I  a  thoroughbred  or  a  thoroughborn 
American,  no  law,  human  or  divine,  could  or  would  prevent  me 
from  giving  my  sympathy  and  assistance  to  the  Irish  people,  or  to 
any  other  people  battling  for  their  freedom. 

A  hundred  years  ago  America  fought  for  independence  against 
the  oppressor  of  the  nations,  and  in  the  commencement  of  that 
fight  she  appealed  to  Ireland  for  assistance,  and  got  it.  In  July, 
1775,  the  first  Continental  Congress  met  in  Philadelphia,  and 
issued  an  appeal  for  assistance  to  the  Irish  nation.  Here  are  some 
of  the  words  of  that  appeal : 

' '  We  are  desirous  of  possessing  the  good  opinion  of  the  virtuous  and  hu- 
mane. We  are  particularly  desirous  of  furnishing  you  with  the  state  of  our 
motives  and  objects,  the  better  to  enable  you  to  judge  of  our  conduct  with  ac- 
curacy, and  determine  the  merits  of  the  controversy  with  accuracy  and  pre- 
cision. .  .  .  You  had  ever  been  friendly  to  the  rights  of  mankind,  and 
we  acknowledge  with  pleasure  and  gratitude  that  your  nation  has  produced 
patriots  who  have  nobly  distinguished  themselves  in  the  cause  of  humanity  in 
America." 

And  in  that  war  of  hers,  America  got  from  Irishmen  the  aid  she 
asked,  and  in  every  war  since,  America  got  from  Irishmen  the  aid 
she  deserved ;  so  much  so  that  there  is  as  much  Irish  blood  ferti- 
lizing the  tree  of  liberty  in  America  to-day  as  there  is  of  the  blood 
of  any  other  people. 

A  few  months  ago  the  newspapers  of  America  contained  tele- 
grams to  the  effect  that  the  English  Government  had  made  a  de- 
mand on  the  American  Government  for  the  extradition  of  O'Dono- 
van  Rossa.  It  was  a  rather  queer  demand,  considering  that  Eng- 
land paid  my  passage  from  an  English  convict  prison  to  New  York, 


Supplementary  Chapter — 1882.  v 

and  that  she  kept  me  in  chains  till  she  put  me  on  board  a  steamer 
in  Liverpool,  and  then  presented  me  with  a  parchment  paper, 
ordering  that  1  do  not  return  to  England,  Ireland,  or  Scotland 
during  a  period  of  twenty  years.  If  Irishmen  will  turn  their  at- 
tention from  "  agitation"  to  "the  resources  of  civilization,"  Til 
be  back  to  Ireland — in  spite  of  England — before  the  twenty  years 
are  up,  if  God  spares  me  life. 

The  fight  goes  bravely  on  as  I  write  ;  Irishmen  are  coming  to 
learn  that  England  has  to  be  stricken  to  her  knees  before  she 
will  surrender  anything  she  once  gets  possession  of.  "If  it 
was  only  a  barren  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  trackless  ocean," 
said  Lord  Palmerston  forty  years  ago,  "  that  England  got  pos- 
session of  by  force,  she  will  never  surrender  it  unless  by  force." 
That's  England.  "  If  I  could  grasp  the  fires  of  hell,"  said  John 
Mitchel,  "  I'd  seize  them  and  hurl  them  into  the  face  of  my  coun- 
try's enemy."  That's  Ireland  ;  and  Irishmen  will  win  if  they 
grasp  the  "fires" — for  England  is  the  most  inflammable  country 
in  the  world. 

I  will  put  on  record  here  the  policy  of  action  that  will  eventually 
bring  England  to  her  knees.  That  policy  is  laid  down  by  a  Catho- 
lic priest ;  it  has  been  acted  upon  by  Irishmen  during  the  past  two 
years  as  far  as  means  would  permit,  and  is  creating  considerable 
alarm  in  England. 

.Resources  of  Civilization — What  Irishmen  can  do— The  Policy  and 
Programme  op  Action  as  laid  down  by  a  Catholic  Priest,  and  adopted 
by  the  United  Society  op  the  Fenian  Brotherhood,  the  Advanced  Na- 
tionalists, and  the  United  Irishmen. 

The  freedom  of  Ireland  imports  the  reduction  of  England  to  a  position 
much  inferior  to  that  which  she  has  occupied  for  centuries.  It  very  probably 
would  entail  the  loss  of  her  Asiatic  and  African  possessions,  and  the  total  sepa- 
ration from  her  of  all  her  colonies.  Such  a  consummation  would  be  a  catas- 
trophe from  even  the  speculative  contemplation  of  which  England  must  recoil 
with  horror.  By  consenting  to  Ireland's  freedom,  England  would  commit  sui- 
cide. England  is  pre-eminently  the  hypocrite,  the  robber,  the  perjurer,  the 
murderer,  the  pirate  of  the  universe ;  but  her  well-educated  leaders  have  always 
been  remarkable  for  their  perspicacity,  and  for  their  devotion  to  the  interests 
of  a  country  that  has  shed  enough  innocent  blood  to  drown  in  one  great  sea 
all  the  English  on  this  planet. 

These  reflections  make  it  plain  that  England  cannot  consent  to  Ireland's 
freedom,  and  that  violence  alone  must  establish  that  freedom,  if  it  is  to  exist. 
These  propositions  I  consider  axiomatic.  Where  and  how  should  that  violence 
be  applied  ?  Nothing  would  please  England  more  than  an  attempt  by  Ireland 
to  fight  her  as  one  free  nation  contends  in  arms  with  another  free  nation.  Ire- 
land's discomfiture  would  be  swift,  certain,  and  complete,  and  her  insanity 
would  give  the  pirate's  atrocities  the  semblance  of  measures  of  justice  and  ne- 
cessity. But  to  locate  the  struggle  on  Irish  soil  would  be  to  cause  England's 
joy  to  overflow,  and  to  make  Ireland's  ruin  irremediable.  Ireland  is  not  a  free 
nation,  and  is  therefore  not  subject  to  the  laws  which  should  regulate  the  con- 
duct of  a  free  nation  in  its  belligerent  relations  to  its  antagonist.  When  that  an- 
tagonist is  England,  Ireland  should  understand  that  the  situation  demands  such 
methods  as  are  justifiable  when  a  captive  is  endeavoring  to  rescue  his  property, 


vi  Supplementary  Chapter — 1882. 

bis  liberty,  and  his  life  from  his  piratical  captor.  England  is  longing  for  a  war 
in  Ireland.  Prudent  Irishmen  will  not  gratify  her  craving.  England,  if  at- 
tacked abroad,  can  scarcely  be  injured,  because  she  forces  her  subject  nations 
to  fight  her  battles  and  pay  all  the  expenses  of  military  operations;  if  attacked 
at  home,  she  is  very  destructible.  The  products  of  her  soil  are  incapable  of 
supporting  more  than  a  small  part  of  her  population;  the  gold  and  silver  which 
she  has  stolen  from  every  nation  that  has  been  cursed  with  her  always  baleful 
influence,  the  bonds  of  the  nations  which  have  been  under  the  necessity  of  bor- 
rowing some  capital  purloined  by  her  from  them  and  others,  the  machinery 
which  brings  her  a  great  part  of  such  of  her  wealth  as  is  not  acquired  by  free- 
booting  and  piracy,  her  immense  stores  of  all  kinds  for  her  fleets  and  armies, 
and  her  nearly  incredible  quantity  of  merchandise  are  clustered  in  large,  com- 
pact, inflammable  cities.  For  their  defence  against  a  judicious  invader  her 
navy  would  be  useless,  and  her  army  would  vainly  oppose  a  destroyer  that  fears 
no  ammunition.  Her  cities  invite  destruction.  The  loss  of  them  would  so 
cripple  England  as  to  leave  her  unable  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  much  more 
unable  to  overpower  any  other  country.  To  place  her  in  this  position  neither 
drum  nor  color,  neither  cannon  nor  sabre,  neither  camp  nor  ship,  neither  sol- 
dier nor  sailor  is  requisite;  a  few  honest,  earnest,  obedient  men,  under  the 
orders  of  one  intelligent,  judicious  commander,  could,  in  a  few  days,  anni- 
hilate a  very  great  part  of  the  aggressive  and  defensive  resources  of  pirate 
England.  It  might  not  tend  to  discourage  the  invaders  to  know  that  Eng- 
land has  never  been  invaded  without  being  conquered.  The  Romans  in- 
vaded and  conquered  England;  the  Angles  and  Saxons  invaded  and  con- 
quered England;  the  Danes  invaded  and  conquered  England;  the  Normans 
invaded  and  conquered  England;  the  Dutch  invaded  and  conquered  England; 
a  very  few  years  ago  a  half-dozen  Irishmen  invaded  and  conquered  England. 
There  was  only  one  man  killed  in  the  invasion,  and  he  perished  by  accident, 
yet  England  was  so  terrified  that  in  utter  helplessness  she  broke  up  her  eccle- 
siastical garrison  in  Ireland,  and  made  it  plain  to  all  who  had  eyes  to  see  that 
the  violence  had  been  applied  in  the  proper  place,  and  that  a  greater  degree  of 
it  would  have  compelled  the  abolition  of  the  military  garrison.  Violence  in 
Ireland  had  always  hurt  the  Irish  and  exhilarated  the  English.  England  had 
for  centuries  repelled  the  assaults  of  popes,  cardinals,  archbishops,  bishops, 
priests,  casuists,  and  polemics  upon  that  ecclesiastical  garrison ;  she  had  listen- 
ed for  cycles  of  years,  with  amused  contempt,  to  the  frothy  invectives  of  en- 
thusiastic blunderers,  who  thought  that  talking  in  the  English  Parliament 
would  turn  the  English  banditti  in  Ireland  inlo  philanthropists;  she  despised 
their  amalgamated  forces  and  flouted  them  by  augmenting  the  strength  of  the 
garrison.  A  half  dozen  men  who  had  not  fame,  title,  position,  or  influence, 
who  did  not  affect  to  be  orators,  whom  no  pious  man  of  prominence  would 
countenance,  let  alone  bless,  forced  England  in  a  few  minutes,  and  at  the  ex- 
pense of  a  few  cents,  to  destroy  that  garrison.  After  that  the  man  who  cannot 
see  that  violence  should  be  applied  in  England  must  be  blind  indeed  ;  he  who 
doubts  its  good  effect  there  cannot  be  convinced. 

Ignorance  is  impotence.  There  never  was  a  nation  better  acquainted  with 
this  fact  than  England,  and  she  has  used  it  to  make  Ireland  totally  incapable 
of  resistance.  She  has  not  only  darkened  the  intellects  of  the  Irish  people,  by 
cunningly  reducing  them  to  a  state  of  gross  and  universal  ignorance,  but  she 
has  thereby  made  it  easy  for  impostors  to  delude  their  consciences.  The  Irish- 
man's property  is  in  slavery,  his  body  is  in  slavery,  his  intellect  is  in  slavery, 
his  conscience,  in  the  matter  of  his  country,  is  in  slavery.  England  thoroughly 
understands  that  the  emancipation  of  the  Irish  intellect  and  conscience  would 
very  promptly  terminate  the  thraldom  of  his  property  and  of  his  body.  Unable 
to  keep  the  Irishman  of  the  present  day  wholly  illiterate,  she  represents  the 
history  of  his  own  country  as  a  farrago  of  nonsense  and  barbarity,  and  diverts 
him  from  all  inquiry  about  Irish  matters  to  the  study  of  her  annals,  which, 


Supplementary  Chapter — 1882.  ,        vii 

though  filthy  with  swinish  lust  and  bloody  with  the  gore  of  millions  of  inno- 
cent victims,  she  teaches  him  to  regard  as  the  inspirers  of  noble  thoughts  and 
the  prompters  of  glorious  achievements.  With  enforced  ignorance  where  it 
may  be  maintained  and  these  pestilent  falsehoods,  which,  where  it  cannot  ex- 
ist, serve  her  purposes  even  better,  she  draws  strength  from  those  who  should 
blast  her  vigor  and  turns  those  who  should  be  implacable  enemies  into  admir- 
ing auxiliaries.  Victoria  was  crowned  on  the  28th  day  of  June,  1837.  Is  there 
an  omen  in  this  convention's  opening  on  the  anniversary  of  her  coronation  ? 
As  a  necessary  part  of  the  proceedings  on  this  occasion,  she  took  an  oath  to 
uphold  the  doctrine  "  that  the  sacrifices  of  Masses,  in  which  it  was  commonly 
said  that  the  priest  did  offer  Christ  for  the  quick  and  the  dead,  to  have  a  re- 
mission of  pain  or  guilt,  were  blasphemous  fables  and  dangerous  deceits."  The 
predecessors  of  this  woman  used  to  rip  up  the  abdomens  of  pregnant  Irish- 
women, take  out  the  infants,  toss  them  up  and  catch  them  on  pikes,  throw  the 
children  and  the  entrails  of  the  disembowelled  creatures  into  the  fire  before  their 
dying  eyes,  and  when  roasted  give  them  to  the  dogs.  They  used  to  kill  Irish- 
men by  pulling  them  by  the  necks  a  little  above  the  ground,  ripping  them  up, 
and  tearing  out  their  hearts  and  entrails.  They  quartered  their  bodies  and 
fixed  the  heads  and  quarters  on  poles  to  strike  terror  into  the  survivors.  This 
is  peculiarly  horrible,  but  to  this  woman's  predecessors'  most  delicious  and  un- 
mistakably English  method  of  slaughtering  innocent  Christians  they  some- 
times made  it  more  amusing  and  more  English  by  cutting  off  the  members  of 
the  victims  piecemeal.  All  this  they  did  to  prove  to  the  Irish  "  that  the  sacri- 
fices of  Masses,  in  which  it  was  commonly  said  that  the  priest  did  offer  Christ  for 
the  quick  and  the  dead,  to  have  remission  of  pain  or  guilt,  were  blasphemous 
fables  and  dangerous  deceits." 

The  morose  harridan  who  swore  this  oath,  and  now  rules  England  and  tor- 
tures Ireland,  has  discovered  that  hanging,  ripping,  disembowelling,  and  quar- 
tering are  ways  entirely  too  slow  for  the  extirpation  of  the  Irish  people  ;  she 
perceives  that  the  result  can  be  reached  much  more  expeditiously  by  means  of 
famine,  and  that  by  employing  that  unbloody  but  unerring  agency  she  can 
slay  more  Irish  in  a  week  than  her  predecessors  slew  in  a  year,  while  she  avoids 
the  odium  of  their  system,  and  in  the  midst  of  her  commission  of  unprovoked 
murders  hears  herself  styled  by  the  teachers  of  her  victims  a  gracious  lady. 
This  Jezabel,  whose  garments  are  continually  dripping  with  the  innocent  blood 
of  murdered  Irishmen,  whose  property  she  enjoys,  has  bought  with  the  profits 
of  that  property  the  souls  and  consciences  of  some  of  the  leaders  among  Ire- 
land's teachers,  and  one  of  them  went  so  far  as  to  blaspheme  God,  and  to  de- 
clare that  he  had  not  provided  punishment  enough  for  such  as  would  disturb 
her  possession.  Ignorance,  deluded  by  oily  rogues,  excused  the  blasphemy  as  a 
mere  exaggeration,  and  believes  that  the  condemnation,  with  this  slight  re- 
serve, was  intensely  patriotic  and  edifyingly  Christian.  Such  ignorance  should 
be  removed  ;  while  it  exists  Ireland  must  writhe  in  agony.  A  nation  is  an 
aggregation  of  individuals,  and  no  nation  can  become  or  remain  free  in  which 
self-reliance  is  not  a  national  characteristic.  England  has  always  labored  with 
extreme  earnestness  and  persistence,  and  with  some  success,  to  eradicate  this 
quality  from  the  Irish  character.  She  is  daily  repeating  to  the  Irish  people 
what  she  has  been  saying  to  them  for  centuries,  that  there  is  some  radical  and 
fatal  imperfection  in  their  character,  and  that  by  reason  of  it  they  are  incapable 
of  autonomy.  She  and  her  hirelings  are  never  weary  of  putting  forward  tnis 
calumny.  Her  dupes,  some  of  whom  are  zealous  Irish  patriots,  believe  it,  and 
lament  what  they  suppose  to  be  the  irreparable  misfortune  of  their  countrymen. 
England,  her  hirelings,  and  her  dupes,  point  to  the  divisions  among  them  as 
irrefragable  proof  to  their  insulting  theory.  When  we  know  England  to  be  a 
professional  perjurer  it  is  not  difficult  to  regard  her  as  a  virulent  liar.  The 
world  has  for  centuries  been  astonished  at  the  unfaltering  attachment  to  theif 
principles  of  the  Irish  people,  whom  the  combined  hatred  of  England's  rulers 


yiii  Supplementary  Chapter — 1882. 

and  her  Parliaments,  venting*  itself  in  horrible  and  uninterrupted  massacres 
and  in  famines  organized  to  dishearten  them  with  more  speed  and  less  expense, 
has  completely  failed  to  wrench  from  their  traditions.  No  other  nation  on 
earth  has  been  so  crucially  tested,  no  other  nation  on  earth  has  given  such  proof 
of  devotion  to  principles.  Devotion  to  principles  is  the  strongest  possible  bond 
of  union  ;  hence  we  may  conclude  that  England's  assertion  that  the  Irish 
character  has  an  irrepressible  tendency  to  disunion  is  an  abominable  but  pecu- 
liarly English  falsehood. 

The  perseverance  of  the  Irish  people  in  trying  to  recover  their  liberty  is 
another  demonstration  of  the  profligacy  of  the  English  traducers.  That  there 
are  dissensions  among  the  people  of  Ireland  is  not  wonderful ;  that  they  are 
not  a  thousand  times  as  great  and  as  numerous  is  prodigious.  England  has 
for  centuries  been  sowing  them  with  all  the  might  of  her  sovereigns,  her 
Parliaments,  her  armies,  her  preachers,  her  orators,  her  writers,  her  hire- 
lings, her  allies,  her  dupes ;  she  has  omitted  no  crime,  spared  no  money,  wav- 
ered before  no  hardship  to  attain  success,  yet  England  screams  to-day  for  help 
against  those  whom  she  pretends  to  mock  as  incapable  of  anything  but  dis- 
sension. 

The  Germans  slaughtered  one  another,  with  the  aid  of  foreigners, often,  for 
thirty  consecutive  years  ;  the  French  have  horrified  mankind  with  their  inter- 
necine wars  ;  the  other  continental  nations  have  drenched  their  soil  with  the 
blood  of  their  countrymen  ;  in  these  United  States  immense  consanguineous 
armies  have  shed  rivers  of  blood,  brothers  not  rarely  meeting  in  deadly  con- 
flict ;  the  surface  of  England  herself  was  for  centuries  scarlet  with  the  blood  of 
civil  war  ;  yet  she  tells  us  that  those  melancholy  spectacles  are  not  evidence  of 
incompetence.  The  Irish  have  not  spilled  their  proportion  of  blood  in  civu 
strife  ;  nevertheless  England  and  her  hirelings  and  her  dupes  assure  us  that 
they  are  more  given  to  bloody  dissensions  than  their  neighbors,  and  are  there- 
fore unfit  for  freedom.  This  monstrous  error,  unremittingly  inculcated  by 
England,  causes  honest  Irish  hearts  to  question  the  wisdom  of  violent  proceed- 
ings to  recover  Irish  liberty.  Its  removal  would  substitute  courage  for  fear, 
resolution  for  indecision,  confidence  for  faint-heartedness. 

Ireland,  enlightened  and  virtuous,  cannot  be  kept  in  slavery.  God  save 
her ! 

The  clergyman  who  wrote  that  for  the  Society  of  United  Irish- 
men is  a  parish  priest  officiating  in  the  United  States  ;  he  is  an 
exemplary  man  and  a  man  of  peace,  but  he  knows  that  Ireland 
can  never  free  herself  from  England  without  war,  and  he  advo- 
cates the  warfare  that  will  be  the  most  destructive  to  England  and 
least  hurtful  to  Ireland. 

O'Connell,  too,  was  a  man  of  peace,  but  he  in  his  indignation 
would  sometimes  cry  out  that  "  they  who  would  be  free  themselves 
must  strike  the  blow."  And  one  time,  at  a  banquet  in  Cork  City 
in  1843,  in  the  presence  of  priests  and  people  he  said  : 

"Suppose  some  penniless,  shoeless  Irishman,  who  made  his  way  across  the 
Channel  on  the  deck  of  a  steamer,  found  himself  in  Manchester  or  St.  Giles, 
and  collected  a  number  of  Irishmen  about  him,  and  one  would  ask  him, 
«  What  news  ? '  to  which  he  would  reply  :  '  Your  father  was  cut  down  by  a 
dragoon,  your  mother  was  shot  by  a  policeman,  or  your  sister' — but  I  will  not 
say  what  has  befallen  her— let  this  happen,  and  I  will  ask  Peel  how  many  fires 
would  blaze  out  in  the  manufactories  of  England  ?  " 

The  very  thing  that  has  happened  in  Ireland  this  very  year— a  police- 
man drove  his  bayonet  through  the  body  of  Ellen  MacDonagh  & 


Supplementary  Chapter — 1882.  ix 

Belmullet.  The  manufactories  of  England  did  not  blaze  yet  to 
any  great  extent ;  I  hope  they  will  soon,  and  keep  blazing  till 
England  is  convinced  she  is  going  to  lose  more  than  she  is  going 
to  gain  by  holding  Ireland.  When  she  will  be  convinced  of  that, 
Ireland  will  be  free. 

I  have  written  more  than  I  intended  to  write.  It  is  difficult  to 
write  at  all  on  Irish  affairs  at  such  a  crisis  as  the  present  ;  but  as  I 
have  to  speak  I  must  speak  my  mind.  I  like  very  much  to  be 
popular,  to  be  with  the  crowd,  to  join  in  the  hurrah  of  "  Land 
without  striking  a  blow  "  ;  but  popularity  is  out  of  the  question 
with  me  there  : — I  believe  it  is 

"  By  the  blows  alone  that  men  strike  in  their  strength 
The  chains  of  the  tyrant  can  be  broken," 

and  I  always  act  up  to  my  belief.  I  cannot  run  with  the  hare  and 
hold  with  the  hound. 

I  thought  this  book  of  my  prison  life  was  going  to  make  a  for- 
tune for  me,  or  for  my  family  after  I  was  dead,  and  I  preserved  as 
my  property  the  plates  and  copyright  of  it  so  far;  but  now  Z  have 
to  sell  that  property,  and  the  purchaser,  P.  J.  Kenedy,  requests 
me  to  add  another  chapter  to  it.  This  is  the  chapter ;  and  as 
the  book  is  going  to  live  longer  than  myself,  I  will  print  in  it 
some  articles  from  the  United  Irishman  of  the  issue  of  the  week  in 
which  I  am  writing  this,  that  the  men  of  the  future  may  judge 
how  the  battle  of  Ireland  in  America  was  going  on  in  the  year 
1882. 

JAW-BREAKERS. 

'Twas  a  coal-torpedo  at  first,  which  was  a  very  simple  thing  ;  'twas  an  in- 
fernal machine,  secondly,  that  blew  up  the  Doterel;  then  'twas  nothing  at  all — 
'twas  all  spontaneous  combustion  that  blew  her  up,  and  no  one  was  to  blame. 
But  the  ghost  of  that  Doterel  is  still  haunting  the  minds  of  the  English  min- 
isters, and  that  ghost  cannot  be  "  laid  "  while  the  "  vengeance  "  of  the  Irish 
Skirmishers  lives.  The  inquiry  about  the  destruction  of  the  Doterel  seems 
not  to  be  ended  yet,  and  all  the  jawbreakers  in  the  dictionary  of  "  modern 
science  "  are  brought  into  use  to  account  for  what  smashed  the  jaws  of  the 
Doterel.  One  telegram  yesterday  says  it  was  xerotine  siccatine  did  it,  and  the 
Tribune  this  morning  says  : 

u  The  statement  of  the  survivors  of  the  British  sloop-of-war  Doterel,  blown 
up  in  the  Straits  of  Magellan  in  April  last,  which  the  commander-in  chief  at 
Portsmouth  has  forwarded  to  the  Admiralty,  shows  that  heuotime  siccative, 
similar  to  that  which  exploded  on  board  the  flagship  Triumph  on  the  Pacific 
station  recently,  was  the  cause  of  the  disaster." 

Will  our  professor  enlighten  us  on  the  subject  of  "  xerotine  siccatine  "  and 
"heuotime  siccative"  ?  or  can  he  instruct  the  skirmishing  students  on  those 
ship-breakers  ? 

After  writing  the  foregoing,  Robert  White,  of  Carrick-on-Suir,  asked  us  if 
we  saw  an  "interview"  that  appears  in  the  Sun  this  morning.  He  handed  it 
to  us,  and  we  may  as  well  show  it  to  our  readers  ; 


x  Supplementary  Chapter — 1882. 

"XEROTINE    SICCATINE — MR.   o'DONOVAN    ROSSA    INTERVIEWED    CONCERNING    AN 

ALLEGED    POWERFUL  EXPLOSIVE. 

"  The  British  gunboat  Doterel  blew  up  on  April  26,  soon  after  dropping 
anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Punta  Arenas.  The  vessel  was  sunk  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  crew  lost  their  lives.  Not  long  a<ter  the  news  of  the  explosion  had 
been  received  O'Donovan  Rossa  told  a  reporter  of  the  Sun  that  he  had  been 
informed  that  friends  of  Ireland  had  so  placed  explosives  in  the  hold  of  the 
Doterel  that  her  explosion  was  merely  a  question  of  time.  A  despatch  from 
London,  printed  on  Thursday,  said  : 

"  '  The  statement  of  the  survivors  of  the  British  sloop-of-war  Doterel,  blown 
up  in  the  Straits  of  Magellan  in  April  last,  which  the  commander-in-chief  at 
Portsmouth  has  forwarded  to  the  Admiralty,  shows  that  xerotine  siccatine, 
similar  to  that  which  exploded  on  board  the  flagship  Triumph  on  the  Pacific 
station  recently,  was  the  cause  of  the  disaster.' 

"  A  reporter  of  the  Sun  asked  Mr.  Rossa  what  this  xerotine  siccatine  was. 

"  'Oh  !  that's  the  new  name  for  it,'  said  Mr.  Rossa  ;  'it  is  a  terrible  ex- 
plosive. ' 

"  'Of  what  nature  ?' 

"  *  I  won't  say  anything  about  that.     It  is — what  do  you  call  it  ? ' 

" '  Siccatine.' 

"  •  Siccatine  ;  yes,  and  it  will  make  the  English  sicker  yet.' 

"  '  You  have  known  it  for  some  time  ? ' 

" '  Oh  !  yes  ;  but  I  won't  say  anything.' 

11  'Is  it  a  powder  ?' 

"  '  No  ;  it  comes  in  bottles.    I  have  the  recipe.' 

"Mr.  Rossa  took  out  a  large  envelope  marked  '  Receipts  for  Skirmishers,' 
and  read  a  letter,  couched  in  mysterious  language,  in  which  the  writer  says 
*  the  medicine  will  act  in  five  minutes  or  six  hours  as  desired.' 

"  '  This  siccatine,'  said  Mr.  Rossa,  '  can  be  put  in  a  bottle,  and  is  safe  unless 
the  bottle  is  cracked  ;  then  it  explodes  and  burns.  The  Skirmishers  in  Eng- 
land and  Ireland  have  other  materials  besides  bombs  and  torpedoes.  The  Eng- 
lish knew  from  the  first  that  this  explosive  was  used,  and  they  sought  to  hide 
the  fact.  This  siccatine  is  a  terrible  thing — worse  than  this,'  and  Mr.  Rossa 
showed  a  small  iron  bomb." 


XEROTINE  SICCATINE. 

We  have  it  at  last ;  xerotine  is  the  name  of  it.  It  was  xerotine  siccatine 
blew  up  the  Doterel  last  April,  and  not  a  coal  torpedo,  as  reported  by  the  first 
Commission  of  Inquiry.    Here  is  the  latest : 

"xerotine  siccatine. 

"  London,  Jan.  18,  1882. 
"  The  statements  of  the  survivors  of  the  British  sloop-of-war  Doterel,  blown 
up  in  the  Straits  of  Magellan  in  April  last,  which  the  commander-in-chief  at 
Portsmouth  has  forwarded  to  the  Admiralty,  show  that  xerotine  siccatine, 
similar  to  that  which  exploded  on  board  the  flagship  Triumph  on  the  Pacific 
station  recently,  was  the  cause  of  the  disaster." 

Now  we  are  in  a  position  to  prove  that  xerotine  siccatine  was  not  "the 
cause  of  the  disaster,"  and  if  England  will  appoint  a  third  commission,  and 
get  permission  from  President  Arthur  to  have  that  commission  sit  in  New 
York,  well  summon  evidence  to  show  that  it  was  not  xerotine  siccatine  struck 
the  blow— provided  that  England  pay  all  the  expenses.  The  Irish  people  will 
yet  make  her  pay  dearly  for  the  tyrant  game  she  is  playing  in  Ireland  now — 
pay  her  and  sicken  her  with  something  more  bitter  than  xerotine  siccatine. 


Supplementary  Chapter — 1882.  xi 

"  FENIAN  DYNAMITE. 

"\Via  French  Atlantic  Cable  to  the  Herald.] 

"  London,  Jan.  15, 1882. 

"  Referring  to  the  explosion  of  an  infernal  machine  on  board  the  steamship 
Oxenholme,  the  Daily  News'  New  York  correspondent  has  telegraphed  the  fol- 
lowing: 

"  '  O'Donovan  Rossa  says  he  is  not  surprised  to  hear  this.  Irishmen  in  Eng- 
land and  Ireland  are  determined  to  blow  up  anything  English  at  every  oppor- 
tunity. He  has  no  doubt  that  the  machines  were  put  on  board  at  Liverpool 
with  intent  to  destroy  the  vessel,  but  he  has  no  direct  knowledge  of  these  par- 
ticular machines,  because  he  cannot  tell  when  the  men  in  Ireland  intend  to 
strike.  "We  send  them  money,"  he  adds,  "and  means  to  work  with,  and 
they  use  them  as  they  think  best.  We  will  continue  to  use  the  machines  till 
England  does  Ireland  justice.  This  is  only  one  instance.  The  Doterel  was 
another.     I  know  that  the  Doterel  was  blown  up  by  an  infernal  machine."  ' 

' '  SOMETHING  DECENT  AMERICANS   DO   CARE   FOR   AND   SOMETHING  THEY  DON'T. 

"It  will  be  observed  from  one  of  our  special  cable  despatches  that  the 
American  correspondent  of  the  London  Daily  News  is  striving  to  propagate 
the  impression  in  Great  Britain  that  that  Irish  knave,  O'Donovan  Rossa,  is  a 
person  of  large  influence  in  the  United  States.  But  it  is  safe  to  affirm  that 
there  are  not  a  dozen  decent  persons  in  this  country  outside  of  Tammany  and 
kindred  circles  who  ever  would  hear  of  the  blatherskite's  bluster  but  for  the  un- 
due prominence  which  this  correspondent  and  fellows  of  his  sort  give  it.  No 
respectable  part  of  this  community  cares  what  Rossa  says.  It  is  of  no  conse- 
quence, and  the  man  himself  is  undeserving  even  of  notoriety  until,  like  Gui- 
teau,  he  meets  his  fate  some  day  at  the  end  of  a  hangman's  rope,  when  it  will 
be  the  duty  of  the  press  to  print  a  report  of  the  execution  as  news.  That  such 
will  be  his  fate,  if  he  does  not  accomplish  a  cowardly  evasion  of  justice,  we 
cannot  doubt,  and  we  think  that  he  deserves  it  as  richly  as  Guiteau  does.  But 
while  no  decent  persons  here  care  what  O'Donovan  Rossa  says,  they  do  care 
that  reputable  British  newspapers  like  the  Daily  News  should  permit  their 
American  correspondents  to  cable  such  trash  to  them." — New  York  Herald. 

That's  a  terrible  rigmarole  of  abuse  the  New  York  English  organ-grinder 
flings  at  us;  but  the  abuse  of  a  prostitute  doesn't  trouble  us  We  think  the 
English  press  of  America  used  to  say  a  hundred  years  ago  that  George  Wash- 
ington was  a  scoundrel,  deserving  of  the  hangman's  rope,  and  England  em- 
ployed Hessians  and  Indians  to  get  at  his  scalp. 

One  thing  is  certain,  O'Donovan  Rossa  can't  do  much  ;  but  he,  and  a  few 
Irishmen  with  him,  scattered  here  and  there  throughout  the  world,  are  trying 
to  demonstrate  to  the  Irish  race  the  possible  way  to  persuade  England  it  will 
be  to  her  interest  to  give  up  Ireland, 

If  O'Donovan  Rossa  had  money  enough  to  back  his  advice  he  would  advise 
the  Irish  race,  that  are  scattered  throughout  the  world  by  England  '  with  a 
vengeance,"  to  burn  up  everything  that  an  English  flag  covered  as  soon  as  they 
set  eyes  upon  it.  'Tis  the  way  to  bring  England  to  her  knees,  and  'twill  be 
done  yet — just  as  soon  as  the  Irish  people  give  up  their  humbug  and  delusions 
and  turn  their  attention  to  the  practical  way  of  getting  rid  of  a  tyrant  that  is 
to  them  the  curse  of  God  as  well  as  of  the  devil. 

Oh !  yes.  We  see  by  the  telegrams  this  morning  we  are  writing  that  there 
are  hints  thrown  out  that  Gladstone  is  disposed  to  introduce  th.s  session  of 
Parliament  a  measure  of  home  rule  for  Ireland  that  will  "  astonish  the  na- 
tives." We  thoroughly  understand  this  game  of  carry  the  fool  further;  it  is 
not  Gladstone's  home  rule  we  want,  but  none  of  Gladstone's  rule,  and  we'll 
have  that  before  five  years  if  the  Irishmen  who  are  now  wasting  their  energies 


xii  Supplementary  Chapter — 1882. 

on  Parliamentary  agitation  will  only  turn  a  little  of  their  attention  and  assist- 
ance to  the  skirmishing  work.    'Tis  of  that  Gladstone  is  afraid. 


THE  LAND  LEAGUE  IN  BOSTON— PATRICK  A.  COLLINS. 

"South  Boston,  Jan.  23,  1882. 
"At  a  public  meeting  of  the  Irish  National  Land  League,  held  at  Cale- 
donia Hall,  in  this  city,  on  Jan.  20,  Mr.  P.  A.  Collins  made  a  stirring  address, 
and  claimed  that  no  man  was  working  for  the  cause  of  Ireland  any  faster  or 
farther  than  he  was  prepared  to  go,  but  that  he  must  see  his  way  and  if  he 
could  not  see  it,  then  he  must  at  least  feel  it,  and  that  no  amount  of  criticism 
iould  drive  him  from  his  position.  He  further  stated,  in  answer  to  proposi- 
tions to  change  the  name  and  tactics  of  the  organization,  that  it  would  be  the 
utmost  folly  and  cowardice  to  desert  the  Land  League  flag  and  set  up  another 
standard  in  its  place  and  at  a  time  when  the  leaders  were  in  prison  ;  that  we 
should  wait  until  they  were  released  or  they  issued  another  manifesto  setting 
forth  the  course  to  be  pursued,  and  closed  with  a  glowing  tribute  to  his  friend, 
O'Donovan  Rossa,  who  through  good  report  and  ill  kept  the  old  flag  flying 
still.  He  believed  in  'the  resources  of  civilization.'  He  agreed  perfectly  with 
General  Sherman  when  he  said,  during  the  rebellion,  that  war  was  horrible, 
cruel — nay,  it  was  hell  itself.  The  speaker  claimed  that  when  two  nations 
were  at  war,  as  in  the  case  of  Ireland,  where  the  tyrant  deprives  the  people  oi 
free  speech,  free  press,  and  denies  them  the  use  of  arms,  that  the  weaker  was 
legally  entitled  to  use  every  resource  which  science  and  chemistry  could  afford 
them,  and  that  it  was  perfectly  legitimate  for  the  Irish  people  to  use  all  means 
in  their  power  to  win  back  liberty  and  independence. 

"  Felix  O'Frieke." 

There  is  hardly  an  incident  in  the  life  of  the  Land  League  movement  that 
does  not  remind  us  of  something  we  met  long,  long  ago  in  the  old  land  and 
in  the  old  work.  The  correspondent  who  sends  us  the  report  of  that  Land 
League  meeting  in  Boston  gives  us  his  name  and  address,  and  we  presume 
everything  reported  in  it  is  correct. 

P.  A.  Collins  says  we  stick  to  the  old  flag  and  keep  it  flying.  We  do.  But 
we  are  growing  weak  and  weary;  the  tide  is  too  strong  against  us,  and  it  is 
very  possible  that  the  crowd  who  are  rushing  to  get  a  free  Ireland  from  Eng- 
land without  striking  a  blow — rushing  in  a  direction  opposite  to  the  direction 
toward  which  we  are  creeping — will  trample  us  under  foot.  We  give  Mr.  P. 
A.  Collins  and  many  others  in  the  Land  League  credit  for  believing  that  we 
must  have  some  fight  with  England  before  she  will  give  up  Ireland  ;  and  when 
some  of  these  strong  men  cannot  afford  to  come  to  the  support  of  the  flag  that 
we  are  growing  too  weak  to  sustain  gallantly,  it  does  not  look  well  for  Ireland's 
hopes,  or  our  hopes  of  freedom  by  the  aid  of  her  exiled  children,  whom  England 
cleared  out  with  a  vengeance. 

But  what  stories  are  these  P.  A.  Collins's  words  put  into  our  head?  Oh!  yes  ; 
Mr.  Collins  must  "  see  his  way."  Ah!  if  we  could  all  see  our  way  to  Ireland's 
freedom  we  would  all  rush  toward  the  goal  ;  but  England  and  England's  arts 
darken  the  way  ;  we  aim  at  spreading  the  light,  but  our  light  is  not  strong 
enough  to  pierce  through  the  many  delusions  in  which  the  kernel  of  Irish  inde- 
pendence is  enmeshed.  P.  A.  Collins  "  must  see  his  way."  Yes  ;  twenty 
years  ago  we  were  as  "foolish"  as  we  are  to-day — yes,  thirty  years  ago — 
and  we  are  as  "  foolish  "  to-day  about  Ireland  as  we  ever  were.  But  twenty 
years  ago  McCarthy  Downing,  who  died  last  year  a  member  of  Parliament, 
lived  in  the  same  city  with  us — Skibbereen.  He  sent  for  us  on  some  business 
connected  with  our  imprisonment  in  '58  and  '59,  and  he  asked  us  if  we  wouldn't 
have  "sense"  ;  that  we  had  a  wife  and  four  young  children  (just  as  we  haw 


Supplementary  Chapter — 1882.  xiii 

to-day)  to  look  after.  He  said  he  would  "be  a  man,"  too,  "  if  lie  could  see  hia 
way,"  and  he  said  he  would  "  be  the  first  man  to  handle  a  pike  if  he  thougJU  it 
would  be  of  any  use."  Isn't  that  P.  A.  Collins  to  a  T  ?  And  McCarthy 
Downing  is  dead,  God  rest  him  !  and  Ireland  isn't  free  ;  we  hope  we  will  never 
have  that  to  say  of  P.  A.  Collins. 

We  have  another  of  those  stories  to  tell,  and  to  make  it  agreeable  to  P.  A. 
Collins  we'll  bring  another  lawyer  into  it.  William  Lane  O'Neill,  of  No.  181 
Broadway,  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  lawyers  in  New  York  City  to-day.  We 
were  a  guest  twenty  odd  years  ago  at  the  house  of  his  father,  who  was  a  great 
missionary  of  temperance,  and  a  worthy  man  in  every  way,  and  we  thought  to 
return  him  the  compliment  of  his  hospitality  by  making  him  a  guest  of  our 
confederation.  But  Mr.  O'Neill  wanted  "to  see  his  way."  He  accompanied 
us  to  the  Cork  and  Bandon  Railway  station.  He  stood  opposite  a  house  in 
course  of  erection.  "Look  there,"  said  he  ;  "the  man  who  has  undertaken  u 
build  that  house  knows  what  he  has  to  provide  in  order  to  complete  i 
You  see  the  timber,  wood,  and  stone,  and  labor  are  all  calculated  and  provided 
for.  In  the  building  of  your  house  have  you  calculated  and  provided  all  those 
things,  and  laid  your  plans  on  a  solid  foundation  ?  Show  me  that  you  have 
and  all  is  right."  We  couldn't  show  him  any  such  thing.  We  were  only 
laboring  on  a  mission  to  provide  the  material  necessary  to  success  ;  it  is  men 
that  provide  material,  and  it  was  men  we  wanted  ;  if  we  had  everything  that 
was  necessary  to  ensure  success,  we  would  have  every  one  in  Ireland  with 
us,  and  even  the  Cullens  and  Moriartys  singing  ''  Te  Deuras  "  with  us  ;  even 
the  ghost  of  Tommie  Moore  himself  would  jump  for  joy  ;  for  he  tells  us  to 

"  Blame  not  the  bard  " 

for  not  worrying  himself  too  much  about  his  country's  slavery,  and  calls  oi. 
Us  to 

"Mark  how  he'd  feel " 

if  a  vista  but  gleamed  of  her  freedom.  Yes,  Tommie  Moore  himself  would  be 
"as  good  a  man  as  any  when  the  time  came,"  and  "  the  first  man  to  handle  a 
pike  if  he  thought  it  would  be  of  any  use  "  P.  A.  Collins  and  others  like  him 
in  the  Land  League  must  do  better,  or  they'll  die  as  Moore  and  McCarthy 
Downing  died — in  Irish  slavery. 


The  English  governor?  forbid  myself  to  enter  England,  Ireland, 
or  Scotland,  and  as  they  know  my  teaching  is  the  teaching  that 
will  bring  England  to  her  knees,  they  also  forbid  my  newspaper  to 
enter  their  dominions.  Several  of  my  agents  over  the  water  tell 
me  their  papers  are  seized  and  confiscated  by  the  Government,  and 
the  following  telegram  is  published  in  the  New  York  papers : 

"TWO  TONS  WEIGHT  OF  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA'S  PAPER  SEIZED. 

"  London,  Jan.  27. — The  Customs  authorities  to-day  seized  two  tons  of  the 
United  Irishman  newspaper  on  its  arrival  at  Folkestone.  The  paper  is  pub- 
lished in  New  York  City,  under  the  editorial  management  of  O'Donovan 
Rossa." 

The  work  that  England  fears  most  is  the  work  that  Irishmen 
should  practise  and  study  most.  England  dreads  secret  organiza- 
tion, and  dreads  that  the  Irish  people  will  carry  the  war  into 
England.  I  believe  in  the  efficacy  of  both  to  make  England  do 
justice  to  Ireland.     I  believe  with  John  Mitchel  that  for  all 


xiv  Supplementary  Chapter — 1882. 

Ireland's  wrongs,  her  artificial  famines,  her  packed  juries,  her 
perjured  judges,  her  grinding  landlords,  there  is  but  one  sole 
remedy — the  edge  of  the  sivord. 

And  with  Mitchel's  teaching  before  our  eyes,  and  O'Connell's 
failure  before  our  eyes,  here  we  are  back  again  into  the  rut  of 
"moral  force,"  and  "parliamentary  agitation,"  and,  wonder  of 
wonders!  here  are  the  men  who  are  "gone  with  a  vengeance" — the 
men  who,  it  was  prophesied,  would  return  with  a  vengeance — here 
they  are  expending  their  energies  on  the  effort  to  reason  England 
out  of  Ireland,  to  show  her  up  to  the  world  as  a  monster  of  in- 
justice, and  to  make  her  so  much  ashamed  of  herself  that  she  will 
come  to  her  knees  and  cry  " Peccavi."  As  well  reason  with  a 
tiger  that  has  his  fangs  in  the  body  of  his  prey. 

The  most  painful  thing  to  me  in  finishing  this  chapter  is  to  see 
by  the  papers  that  evictions  are  taking  place  in  every  county  in 
Ireland,  which  is  a  sure  indication  that  England's  work  is  going  on 
successfully.  England  wants  to  exterminate  us  ;  and  while  we 
submit  to  the  process  peacefully  and  without  retaliation,  the  land 
;s  dead,  no  matter  how  loud  the  "  agitation"  may  be  in  it.  John 
Mitchel,  after  describing  an  eviction,  says  in  his  "Last  Conquest 
of  Ireland  "  : 

"It  is  but  fair  to  tell  that  sometimes  an  ejecting  landlord  or  agent  was 
shot  by  desperate  houseless  men.  What  wonder  ?  There  were  not  half 
enough  of  them  shot.  If  the  people  had  not  been  too  gentle,  forgiving,  and 
submissive,  their  island  could  never  have  become  a  horror  and  scandal  to  the 
earth." 

God  be  good  to  you,  Mitchel ! 

I  have  now  finished  my  chapter.  Things  must  change,  the  peo- 
ple must  change,  for  if  nothing  else  will  kill  the  delusion  that 
possesses  them,  English  trueulence  will  kill  it.  I  will  try  and 
follow  up  the  thorny  path  of  life  I  have  so  far  trodden.  My 
faith  is  strong.  It  is  possible  I  will  write  another  book,  if  I  live 
long.  I  see  no  one  writing  the  history  of  Fenianism — no  one 
who  knows  anything  about  it  ;  and,  dead  or  alive,  I  would  be 
angry  at  seeing  the  history  of  that  work  written  by  one  who  knew 
nothing  about  it. 

As  secretary  of  the  Eenian  Brotherhood,  I  have  at  present  pos- 
session of  all  the  papers  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood,  and  the 
Council  will  give  me  permission  to  use  them.  Outside  of  Mr. 
Stephens,  I  know  as  much  about  the  movement  in  England, 
Ireland,  and  Scotland  for  the  past  twenty-five  years  as  any  other 
man  living.  Mr.  Kenedy,  the  publisher,  has  made  me  an  offer 
for  the  book,  and  Til  write  it. 


PEEFAOE. 


The  following  article  is  from  the  L  nd  m  Spectator.  It  is  a  review  of  the  report  oi  Lord 
Devon's  Commission  of  Ii  quiry  into  our  treatment  in  prison,  It  is  an  English  adm.*sior 
that  the  English  Governmmt  treated  us  shan  efully.  I  reprinr,  it  here  as  a  kind  of  preface^ 
even  though  a  more  suitable  place  for  it  may  be  found  in  another  part «  f  the  book  — O'Doho- 
van  Rossa. 

[From  the  London  Spectator.] 

It  is  a  sorry  admission  to  be  obliged  to  make,  but  it  is  the 
tmth — and  we  believe  that  the  policy,  no  less  than  the  daty, 
of  those  who  seek  to  reconcile  the  people  of  England  and  the 
people  of  Ireland  is  to  state  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth,  on  all  questions  at  issue  between  them 
— it  is  the  truth,  then,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  that  the  complaints 
so  angrily  and  persistently  made  in  Ireland  for  the  last  three 
years,  regarding  the  treatment  of  Fenian  prisoners  detained  in 
English  jails,  have  been,  if  not  literally  maintained,  certainly  in 
their  substance  justified.  Those  statements,  advanced  in  the 
House  of  Commons  by  members  of  Parliament,  and  in  memo- 
rials addressed  to  the  Government  by  Irish  municipalities,  in 
the  most  formal  and  serious  manner,  in  which  such  charges 
could  be  raised,  have  been  met  by  the  ministers  especially  re- 
sponsible and  by  the  prime  minister  himself,  with  an  indignant 
and  categorical  denial.  At  last,  however,  on  the  occasion  when 
Mr.  Gladstone  promised  to  "  liberate"  these  prisoners  in  the  event 
of  a  cessation  of  the  aggrarian  disturbances  which  prevailed  in 


n  PREFACE. 

three  or  four  Irish  counties  last  March,  he  also  consented  to  the 
appointment  of  a  commission  to  inquire  into  the  charges  brought 
against  the  prison  officials.  That  commission  has  reported,  and 
its  report  justifies  some  of  the  worst  charges  advanced  against 
the  administration.  It  is  a  simple  matter  of  fact  that  in  one 
case,  the  case  of  O'Donovan  Kossa,  punishment  was  carried  to 
the  extent  of  torture — torture  of  a  novel  kind,  certainly,  but 
quite  as  brutal  as  the  boot,  and  protracted  with  a  vindictive 
pertinacity  unprecedented,  we  hope  and  believe,  in  this  century 
on  this  side  of  the  equator. 

Mr.  Gladstone   saw   a  great   many   shocking   things  in  the 
prisons  of  Naples,  and  he  recorded  them  in  terms  and  in  a  tone 
which  thrilled  the  hearts  of  all  civilized  men.     But  if  it  had  been 
his  lot  to  see  one  Italian  prisoner,  one  of  Poerio's  rougher  and 
less   cultivated  comrades,  who,  for  an  act  of  insubordination  to 
his  jailor,  had,  without  further  warrant  than  that  official's  will, 
had  his  hands  manacled  behind  his  back,  except  at  the  hour  of 
meals  and  the  hours  of  sleep,  for  thirty-four  continuous  days,  in 
what  words  would   he   not   have  painted  that  long   agony  of 
artificial   paralysis  and   unmanning  ignomony !     How  he  would 
have  described  the  exquisite  torture  of  depriving  a  being  made 
in    God's   image,   for  the   coarse    offence   of   a   moment's   fury, 
through   more   than   one  whole   month,  in  the  full  heat  of  the 
Neapolitan  midsummer,  of  the  use  of  his  hands,  of  the  organs, 
that  is  to  say,  which,  after  his  brain,  are  the  most  active,  intelli- 
gent, and  indispensable  agents  of  his  life  !    Consider  the  incessant 
series  of  services  which  the  cunning  of  a  man's  hand  renders  to 
him  in  the  course  of  one  whole  day,  and  then  imagine  the  state 
of  a  man  shut  up  alone  in  a  cell  for  thirty -four  successive  days> 
and  those  the  thirty-four  hottest  days  of  the  year,  with  his  hands 
pinioned  at  the  loins !     A  man  in  such  a  state  is  at  the  mercy  of 
the   meanest  insect  in   creation.     The  wasp  may  fasten  on  his 


PREFACE.  ill 

eyelid,  or  the  bug  burrow  in  his  ear,  and  he  cannot  help  himself. 
If  tears  flow  from  his  eyes  he  cannot  brush  them  off.  The  sense 
of  personal  filth,  which  is  the  sorest  trial  of  prolonged  and  relax- 
ing illness,  is  enforced  on  a  man  in  the  full  vigor  of  an  unusually 
robust  constitution,  at  the  time  of  a  year  when  the  air  of  a  cell  is 
like  the  air  of  an  oven.  Suppose  such  a  man  to  be  suddenly 
attacked  with  sickness,  that  he  burst  a  blood  vessel,  that  he  has  a 
fit,  that  he  vomits  violently,  that  he  is  attacked  by  cholera,  how  is 
he  to  summon  help  ?  He  may  be  too  weak  to  cry  so  that  his 
voice  shall  pierce  walls  and  bars,  or  to  ring  the  bell,  if  indeed  a 
bell  be  provided,  with  his  teeth.  It  is  here  that  the  spirit  of 
torture  which  originally  suggested  such  a  punishment  as  handcuff- 
ing behind  the  back  most  distinctly  reveals  itself.  A  man  hand- 
cuffed in  front  would  be  equally  secured  from  doing  violence  to 
himself  or  others — and  for  such  a  reason  only,  it  is  manifest, 
ought  handcuffing  or  the  strait-waistcoat  to  be  employed  on  the 
prisoners  of  a  country  pretending  to  consider  itself  Christian  and 
civilized — but  handcuffing  in  front  does  not  reduce  a  man  to 
such  a  condition  that,  where  his  state  is  not  like  that  of  a  cripple, 
it  is  more  or  less  like  that  of  a  corpse.  We  wonder  what  may 
become  the  favorite  attitude  of  a  man  whose  hands  are  strapped 
behind  his  back  for  many  hours  a  day,  and  many  days  together. 
The  ingenious  violence  that  is  done  to  some  of  the  most  delicate 
and  complex  nerves,  muscles  and  vessels  in  the  body  is  such  that 
he  can  hardly  escape  incurring  the  liability  to  aneurism,  or 
anachylosis,  or  some  form  of  paralysis.  Poerio  was  chained.  But 
a  man  who  is  chained  can  at  least  lie  down  or  sit  down  with 
tolerable  ease.  A  man  who  is  handcuffed  behind  the  back  can 
only  lie  down  on  his  breast,  and  that  in  a  form  peculiarly  inju- 
rious to  the  lungs  and  heart.  Unless  his  cell  happens  to  be 
purposely  provided  with  a  low  stool,  he  cannot,  we  imagine,  sit 
down  without  very  great  discomfort.      Kneeling  is  of  the  few 


It  PREFACE. 

bodily  adjustments  possible  to  him,  the  one  that,  perhaps,  can  be 
longest  endured,  kneeling  with  one  shoulder  leaned  against  a  wall, 
varied  by  walking  backwards  and  forwards,  and  counting  the  few 
possible  paces,  and  trying  to  multiply  them  into  miles ;  we  dare 
say  that  is  the  way  O'Donovan  Kossa  dodged  mortal  disease,  and 
kept  his  reason  during  those  thirty-four  days.  This  miserable 
man  was  not  a  minister  of  State,  like  Poerio,  but  he  was,  so  far  as 
the  will  of  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  Irish  shires  could  so  make 
him,  a  member  of  the  British  Parliament.  This  charge  of  torture 
was  made.  It  was  denied  again  and  again,  but  it  was  a  true 
charge ;  and  the  people  of  Tipperary  marked  their  sense  of  its 
truth  by  sending  the  name  of  O'Donovan  Kossa  to  the  head  of  the 
poll  at  the  next  election.  This  was  a  turbulent  and  ungracious 
manifestation  of  opinion,  no  doubt ;  but  there  was  much  more 
excuse  for  it  than  we  thought  at  the  time.  That  the  provocation 
given  by  O'Donovan  Eossa  was  of  a  very  gross  character,  and  that 
he  was  a  most  difficult  subject  to  manage,  need  hardly  be  said. 
Prison  discipline  must  be  maintained  over  political  offenders  as 
well  as  over  pickpockets.  Flog,  if  necessary ;  if  it  be  still  more 
necessary,  introduce  martial  law  into  our  prisons  and  shoot  But 
let  whatever  punishment  is  inflicted  on  any  man,  however  guilty 
or  unworthy,  who  bears  the  character  of  a  British  subject,  be  a 
punishment  according  to  the  spirit  as  well  as  the  letter  of  English 
law,  and  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Courts  of  the  United 
Kingdom.  If  a  police  magistrate  at  Bow-street  were  to  take  it 
upon  himself  to  order  a  thief  thirty  times  convicted  before  him 
to  be  handcuffed  behind  the  back  for  thirty  days,  how  long  would 
the  Chancellor  allow  such  a  magistrate  to  hold  a  seat  on  the 
bench  ?  Shall  it  be  tolerated  that  the  governor  of  a  jail  is  to  use 
the  power  that  is  given  him  for  the  purposes  of  restraint  until  the 
punishment  inflicted  becomes  by  accumulation  one  of  the  most 
truculent  forms  of  torture  ever  employed?     I£> it  be  necessary 


PREFACE.  T 

let  us  return  to  severe  penalties ;  but  let  such  methods  of  punish- 
ment, even  in  regard  to  our  Irish  political  prisoners,  be  inflicted 
only  after  an  act  of  Parliament  has  been  passed  for  the  purpose. 
We  hanged  the  governor  of  an  island  for  employing  torture  in  the 
last  century.  Have  we  so  degenerated  as  to  allow  the  governor 
of  a  jail  to  use  it  under  Queen  Victoria  ?  Unfortunately  this  case, 
though  by  far  the  worst,  is  not  the  only  case  in  which  charges 
brought  against  the  administration  of  the  prisons  were  substan- 
tiated to  the  satisfaction  of  the  commissioners.  The  governor  of 
Portland,  Mr.  Clifton,  charged  O'Donovan  Eossa,  on  the  ground 
of  an  intercepted  paper,  "  with  an  attempt  to  carry  on  a  love 
intrigue  by  letter"  with  the  wife  of  another  prisoner.  The  paper 
in  question  was  addressed  to  "  Mrs.  Mary  Moore,  for  Mrs.  0'D.," 
and  was  evidently  intended  for  O'Donovan  Rossa's  own  wife. 
The  governor,  however,  chose  to  regard  the  insertion  of  the  words 
"for  Mrs.  O'D."  as  "a  subterfuge,"  and  took  occasion  to  inform 
the  prisoner  Moore  of  the  relations  which  he  believed  existed 
between  O'Donovan  Eossa  and  Mrs.  Moore.  The  commissioners 
having  gone  into  the  case  carefully,  at  O'Donovan  Rossa's  request, 
hold  him  "clear  from  the  imputation  of  any  endeavor  to  carry  on 
a  love  intrigue"  and  regret  that  the  governor  acted  under  "  mis- 
apprehension." They  find,  moreover,  that  the  governor  neglected 
until  he  was  brought  before  them  after  an  interval  of  four  years,  to 
compare  the  letter  incriminated  by  him  with  Mrs.  O'Donovan 
Eossa's  letter  to  which  it  was  a  reply.  Had  he  done  so,  they  add, 
"  such  a  comparison  could  not  have  failed  to  prevent  him  from 
harboring  such  a  suspicion,  or  communicating  it  to  others."  It  is 
well  for  Mr.  Clifton  that  he  does  not  form  such  suspicions,  and 
communicate  them  to  others  outside  the  walls  of  his  jail.  Were 
he  to  do  so,  he  might  find  that  his  "misapprehension"  might  not 
be  so  lightly  regarded  by  a  jury  of  British  husbands.  In  estimat- 
ing O'Donovan  Eossa's  want  of  respect  for  the  majesty  which 


vi  PREFACE. 

clothes  the  person  of  a  British  jail  governor,  we  submit  that  this 
wholly  unfounded  charge  against  his  moral  character  deserves 
some  slight  consideration.  Who  can  wonder  that  such  a  charge 
should  work  like  madness  on  the  brain  of  such  a  man  as  this 
O'Donovan  Eossa  ?  In  all  that  we  read  of  him  we  discern  the 
elements  of  an  essentially  Southern  temperament — a  nature  capa- 
ble of  sudden  fits  of  fury,  but  not  the  less  capable  of  generous 
and  noble  conduct.  Had  Mr.  Gladstone  met  a  lazarone  of  such  a 
type  in  the  prison  at  Naples,  so  tortured  in  the  body  and  in  the 
soul,  manacled  by  the  back  for  a  month,  morally  dishonored  in 
the  face  of  evidence  for  four  long  years,  he  might  well  have  said 
uEcce  homo  !  Such  is  the  manner  of  man  such  a  system  as  exists 
in  Naples  naturally  produces."  A  soft  word  had  power  to  do  with 
this  dogged  Irish  rebel  what  manacles  could  never  have  done.  The 
Commissioners  drily  record  that  "  an  opportune  appeal  to  his  bet- 
ter feelings  by  Captain  Du  Cane  in  October,  1868,  proved  more 
effectual  than  a  long  previous  course  of  prison  discipline ;  and, 
with  one  exception,  in  the  December  of  that  year,  he  has  not  since 
been  subjected  to  any  further  punishment." 

The  Commissioners,  we  regret  to  add,  find  that  grave  charges 
brought  by  other  convicts  were  well  founded.  They  find  that, 
having  arrived  at  Pentonville  in  mid-winter,  they  were  at  once 
deprived  of  the  flannels  which  they  had  been  supplied  with  in  the 
Irish  prison  from  which  they  came.  The  report  that  O'Connell, 
suffering  from  disease  of  the  aorta,  or  heart  (medical  authorities 
differ  on  the  point  whether  it  is  his  heart  or  his  aorta  that  is 
affected;  but  he  is,  besides,  subject  to  "nervous  paralysis  of  the 
head,"  and  he  has  steadily  declined  in  weight  to  the  extent  of 
twenty  pounds  since  his  imprisonment)  was  put  on  bread-and- 
water  diet  in  close  confinement  seven  times,  being  evidently  "unfit 
to  undergo  such  discipline."  Five  of  this  prisoner's  letters  were 
suppressed.     The  Commissioners  think  the  letters  ought  to  have 


PREFACE.  vii 

been  forwarded,  erasing  such  parts  as  the  authorities  considered 
>bjectionable.  The  prisoner,  Mulcahy,  a  man  of  good  family  and 
emarkable  talents  (he  was  one  of  the  principal  writers  of  the  Irish 
People),  while  suffering  from  spitting  of  blood,  was  kept  to  hard 
labor  at  Portland,  and  the  hard  labor  was  stone-dressing ;  but  it 
was  also  proved  to  involve  the  practice  of  carrying  large  slabs  of 
stone  on  the  back.  After  about  three  weeks  of  this  work  the 
spitting  of  blood  ended  in  haemorrhage  from  the  lungs.  The 
Commissioners  think  that  this  prisoner  was,  on  the  whole,  "  not 
fit  for  hard  lnbor."  Mulcahy,  it  is  added,  "  was  never  reported  for 
misconduct,  nor  ever  punished,"  unless,  indeed,  carrying  slabs  of 
stone  on  the  back  when  a  man  is  spitting  blood  is  to  be  considered 
punishment.  In  the  cases  of  the  other  prisoners  who  came  before 
the  Commissioners,  some  complaints  were  substantiated,  some  held 
not  proven ;  but  taking  a  general  view  of  the  whole  report,  we 
must  not  hesitate  xo  say,  that  the  case  of  the  Fenian  prisoners 
against  the  authorities  has  been,  on  the  whole,  established ;  that 
at  least  one  of  those  prisoners  was  treated  with  a  degree  of  barbar- 
ity which  it  is  grievous  to  contemplate ;  that  they  were  all 
subjected  to  inconsiderate  and  unnecessary  severity ;  that  the  con- 
duct of  the  officials  incriminated  by  the  report  calls  for  further 
action  on  the  part  of  the  government ;  that  by  some  of  these 
officials  the  government  was  misled  so  as  to  make  untrue  state- 
ments in  Parliament ;  that  the  facts  of  the  case,  as  revealed  by 
the  report,  deprive  the  amnesty  of  the  claim  to  be  considered  in 
any  degree  as  "  an  act  of  pure  clemency ;"  and  that  it  is  impolitic, 
and  indeed,  impossible  to  maintain  the  principle,  for  the  first 
time  applied  in  the  case  of  these  prisoners,  that  political  offenders 
should  be  submitted  to  the  same  usage  as  burglars  and  footpads. 


DET3I  CATION. 


TO  THE  IRISH  CONYICTED  FELONS, 


1863-1870. 

Friends  : 

To  you  and  to  your  memories  I  dedicate  this  book.  Represent 
ing,  as  you  do,  the  different  parts  of  Ireland — even  its  exiled 
children — I  hold  you  as  the  truest  representatives  of  its  people,  their 
aspirations,  and  their  aims.  Scattered,  as  you  are,  over  the  world 
— sharing  what  seems  to  be  the  common  heritage  of  our  race — with 
some  still  bound  in  the  enemy's  bonds,  and  others  in  the  embrace 
of  the  grave,  I  collect  you  here  to  offer  you  this  humble  tribute  of 
my  esteem  and  remembrance. 

Yours  very  sincerely, 

Jer.  O'Donovan  Rossa. 


TO 

Sentence,  Birthplace, 

Michael  O'Brien Death Co.  Cork. 

Michael  Larkin. Death Co.  Galway. 

Wm,  Philip  Allen Death Co.  Cork. 

Michael  Barrett Death. __ .Cork. 

John  McClure Death— Life Dobbs  Ferry,  N.Y. ,  America 

Thomas  Francis  Bourke.  .Death—   "    Fethard,  Co.  Tipperary. 

Patrick  Doran .Death —   "    Dublin. 

John  McCafferty Death—   "    Sandusky,  O.,  America. 

Edward  Kelly Death —   "    _. Cork. 

Edw.  O'Meagher  Condon. Death —  "    .Mitchelstown,  Cork. 

Wm.  P.ThompsonDarragh]  D^^f)e  (died  [  Ballycastle,  Antrim. 

Patrick  Melady. _  .Death — Life Dublin. 

James  F.  X  O'Brien Death—   "    Waterford. 

Thomas  Cullin ane Death —  "   Ireland.    > 


DEDICATION. 


Sentence.  Birthplace. 

John  O'Brien .Life  (still  in  prison).. .London. 

Sergeant  M'Carthy ..Life  (still  in  prison)e..Fermoy,  Cork. 

TJiomas  Chambers Life  (still  in  prison). .  .Ireland. 

James  Darragh Life  (still  in  prison) Ireland. 

James  Wilson .Life  (still  in  prison).  _  .Ireland. 

Martin  Hogan     Life  (still  in  prison) Ireland. 

Patrick  Keating Life  (still  in  prison) Ireland. 

Thomas  Hassett Life  (still  in  prison). .  .Ireland. 

Michael  Harrington Life  (still  in  priron) Ireland. 

Robert  Cranston .Life  (still  in  prison) Ireland. 

James  Keiley Life  (still  in  prison) Ireland. 

Thomas  Clark  Luby 20  years _  _ .Dublin. 


John  O'Leary. 
Michael   Sheehy. 

Michael  Cody 

John  Shine 


.20 
.20 
.20 
.20 

Edmond  Power 15 

John  F.  Kearns 15 

John  Flood 15 

John  Devoy.. 15 

Edward  Duffy 15 

Patrick  F.  Lennon 15 

Patrick  Loman 15 

Patrick  Walsh 15 

William  G.  Halpln 15 

Rickard  O'S.  Burke... 15 

James  M'Coy ...15 

Thos.  Delaney. 15 

"Pagan"  O'Leary. _  7 

Wm.  Mackey  Lomasney 12 

Denis  Dowling  Mulcahy._10 
C.  Underwood  O'Connell.10 

Bryan  Dillon 10 

Thomas  Baines. 10 

Daniel  Bradley 10 

Mortimer  Mori  arty 10 

George  F.  Connolly 10 

John  Lynch 10 

Cornelius  Dwyer  Keane._10 

William  F.    Roantree 10 

Edw.  Pilsworth  St.  Clair.  10 

George  Brown 10 

Thos.  M'Carthy  Fennell..  10 

John  Warren 15 

Charles  J.  Kickham 14 

John  Boyle  O'Rielly 20 

Aug.    Ellicott  Costello..12 

James  O'Connor. 10 

Chris.  Manus  O'Keefe 10 

William  Moore  Stack 10 

Patrick  Barry 10 

John  Haltigan. _  7 

Michael  O'Regan... 7 

Terence  Byrne 7 

John  Coghlan 7 

William  O' Sullivan 5 

Edward  Btttler 5 


Tipperary. 

"  __ Cashel,  Co.  Tipperary. 

" Dublin. 

"  (still  in  prison  .Ireland. 

" -Tralee  Kerry. 

"  ..Cork. 

"  Baldoyle,  Dublin. 

"  _ Naas,  Kildare. 

"  (died  in  prison).  Bally hadereen,  Mayo. 

" Dublin. 

"  _ ...Ireland. 

"  Charleville,  Co.  Cork. 

"  _. Co.  Meath. 

"  _  Dunmanway,  Cork. 

"  (still  in  prison)  _  Ireland. 

"  (still  in  prison).  Ireland. 

" .Macroom,  Cork. 

"  Fermoy,  Co.  Cork. 

"  _ Redmondsto'n,  Tipperary. 

" _ .Frankfort,  Kings  Co. 

"  (dead) Cork  City. 

"  -. .Co.  Sligo. 

"  _ Cork  City. 

"  Kerry. 

"  Dublin. 

"  (died  in  prison).  Cork. 

"  Skibbereen,  Cork. 

"  - ..Leixlip,  Kildare. 

"  Warwick. 

"  Glenowrin,  Co.  Down. 

"  Kilballyowen,  Co.  Clare. 

"  _- Clonakilty,  Cork. 

"  - Mullinahone,  Tipperary. 

"  .DowthCo.,  Meath. 

"  - Killimore,  Co.  Gal  way. 

"  Glen  of  Imael,Co.  Wicklow 

"  ..Ireland. 

"  _ .Tralee,  Kerry. 

"  - .Co.  Cork. 

"  Kilkenny. 

"  - ...Rosscarberry,  Cork. 

"  _ .Dublin. 

"  - Cork. 

"  Kilmallock,  Limerick. 

" Dublin. 


DEDICATION. 


Sentence.                       Birthplace. 
Andrew  Kennedy 5  years Nenagh,  Tipperary. 


Hugh  Francis  Brophy 10 

Thomas  Duggan. ___10 

Michael  Moore 10 

John   Kenealy .10 

John  Bennett  Walsh 7 

Denis  Cashman 7 

Jeremiah  Ahern _.  7 

David  Commins 7 

Simon  Downey.. _  7 

Denis  Hennessey 7 

Eugene  Lombard 7 

Morgan  Mc Sweeny. 7 

Joseph  Noonan... ...  7 

Patrick  Reardon 7 

John  Sheehan 7 

Eugene  Geary _  7 

Patrick  Mears 10 

Peter  Maughan 10 

Patrick  S.  Doran 7 

Bartholomew  Moriarty 7 

Henry  Shaw  Mulleda 7 

Patrick  Ryan 5 

Martin  Hanly  Carey 5 

William  Murphy 5 

John  Carroll 5 

Charles    Moorehouse 5 

Daniel  Reddest 5 

Thomas  Scally 5 

John   Brennan 5 

Timothy  Fe atherstone 5 

James  Walsh 5 

Stephen  Joseph  Meany 15 

Michael    Stanley 10 

John  B.  S.  Casey 5 

Thomas  Daly 5 

Patrick  Dunne 5 

James  Flood 5 

Maurice  Fitzglbbon 5 

Thomas  Fog  arty 5 

Luke  Full  am 5 

Laurence  Fullam ._  5 

John  Goulding 5 

Patrick  Leahy 5 

Patrick  Mat 5 

Michael  Noonan 5 

Jeremiah  O'Donovan 5 

Cornelius  O'Mahony 5 

James  Reilly. 5 

Robert   Wall. 5 

—  Davitt 14 

—  Wilson 7 

Pat.  J.  Hayburne 2 

David  OConnell.. 2 

Er  ward  Fitzgerald 2 

John  O'Clohissy 2 

George  Hopper 2 


"  _ Dublin. 

"  Ballincollig,  Cork. 

" ..Dublin. 

"  _ .Gleannlara,  Co.  Cork. 

"  Ireland. 

"  Waterford. 

"  _ .Ireland. 

"  _  .Ireland. 

"  _ Ireland. 

"  _ _  -Kilmallock,  Co.  Limerick 

"  ___Cork. 

"  _ ..Ireland. 

"  .Ireland. 

"  Kilmallock,  Limerick. 

" Kilmallock,  Co.  Limerick. 

"  __ ..Ireland. 

"  _ ..Ireland 

"  Moate,  Westmeath 

"  _ .-Kilmacow,  Co.  Kilkenny. 

"  _ _  .Ireland. 

"  Naas,  Kildare. 

"  .Merthyr  Tydvil. 

"  (dead)-. __Eyrecourt,  Co.  Galway. 

"  Cork. 

"  .Ireland. 

"  __ Ireland. 

"  -.-Dunleary,  Dublin. 

"  _ Ireland. 

"  Ireland. 

"  Ireland. 

"  __ Ireland. 

"  Ennis,  Clare. 

"  Dublin. 

"  ..Mitchelstown,  Cork. 

"  Kilmallock,  Co.  Limerick. 

"  Dublin. 

"  _ ..Dublin. 

„  - -. Kilmallock,  Co.  Limerick. 

"  Kilfeacle,  Tipperary. 

"  ..Drogheda,  Co.  Meath. 

"  Drogheda,  Co.  Meath. 

"  - Ireland. 

"  _ Ireland. 

"  .Slane,  Co.  Meath. 

"  Kilmallock,  Co.  Limerick, 

"  - Coolfliuch,  Cork. 

"  Macroom,  Cork. 

"  --- Ireland. 

"  Ireland. 

"  (still  in  prison) .Ireland. 

"  (still  in  prison) -Ireland. 

"  --.- ..Dublin. 

"  .Tipperary. 

"  Tipperary. 

"  -- ..Dublin. 

"  -Dublin. 


4 


DEDICATION. 


Sentence. 

William  Cu±titT 2  years. . 

Gunner  Flood 2    "     _. 

Joseph  Tompkins 1|  "     .. 

James  Tompkins l|  " 

Joseph  Brown l|  "     .. 

John  Watson l|  "     _. 

Edwin  Forrester l|  "     _. 

James  Clancy Life    -- 


Birthplace 

Kildare. 

Ireland. 

....Dublin. 
....Dublin. 

Dublin. 

....Dublin. 

Ireland. 

Waterford. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.... Page  1. 

Introduction — A  View  of  Ireland — A  Semi-Political  and  Semi-Religiou* 
Chapter. 

CHAPTER  II.... Page  5. 

Ireland's  Suffering — Providence — Famine — Our  Fathers'  Crimes — '98  and 
'48 — Protestants  and  Catholics — Egotism — The  Phoenix  Society — Mr.  Ste- 
phens' Visit  to  Skibbereen — Joining  the  Revolutionary  Society,  May ,'58 — Amer- 
ican Aid — Drilling — Police  Hunts — Too  Fast  for  the  Irish  Americans — Arrests 
December,  '58 — Extra  Police — Meeting  with  William  O'Shea,  Tim  M'Carthy, 
Jerry  Cullinane,  and  Denis  0' Sullivan — Bantry  Prisoners — Lodged  in  Cork 
Jail. 

CHAPTER  III.... Page  9. 

Oakum  and  Solitary  Confinement — Black  Bread  and  Leek  Porridge — Eat- 
ing in  the  Dark — Mock  Trial  in  Prison — False  Swearing  about  Drilling,  etc. — 
"  Marching  in  Military  Order  " — Patrick's  Day  in  the  Dock — Sent  Back  to 
Prison  Again — Plead  Guilty — Jury  Packing — Lord  O'Hagan — Patriotism  of 
the  Irish  Bar  a  Sham — First  Working  of  the  Revolutionary  Movement  in  '58 — 
Mortimer  Moynahan — "  Steeped  to  the  Lips  in  Treason  " — Centres  and  Circles 
— Opposition  of  the  Clergy — Absolution  Refused — The  Jubilee — The  Bishop 
and  Dr.  Doyle — Give  to  Csesar  What's  Due  to  Caesar — The  Police  Spy  System 
—Altar  Denunciation — Rev.  Mr.  O'Sullivan's  Information  to  the  Government, 
and  Mr.  Sullivan's  (of  the  "Nation")  Note  of  Warning— The  Evil  Effects  of 
Curiosity. 

CHAPTER  IV... .Page  19. 

A  Glance  Over  Six  Years— Eviction — Fidelity  of  the  People — "  Shoneen" 
Snobbery — The  Patriotic  Bishop  O'Hea — Rifles  and  Pikes — English  Hypocrisy 
— Surrender — Polish  Demonstration  and  Prince  of  Wales'  Illumination — Tear- 
ing Down  the  English  Flag  where  there  was  not  much  Danger  in  the  Way — 
Threats — The  "Irish  People"  Newspaper  Denunciations — Calumnies — A 
Hard  Job  for  any  of  the  "  Fratres  Feniores  "  to  Get  Married — No  Absolution 
— Father  Leader  and  his  Gross  Insult,  which  Ended  in  Marriage. 

CHAPTER  Y.-.-Page  32. 
Seizure  of  the  "  Irish  People  " — Arrest  and  Search  for  Papers — The  Bally- 
bar  Races — Story  Telling — Little  Jealousies — Ordered  off  to  America — In 
Court — Nagle  and  the  Detectives — Richmond  Prison — Religion  and  Routine — 
Stripping — My  Cell — My  Board  and  Lodging — My  Wife's  Visit  and  Dr. 
Cullen's  Slanders — "  Mad  Dog  "  and  Barry  the  Crown  Prosecutor — The  Lower 
Castle  Yard — Preliminary  Examinations — High  Treason  and  Hanging-— 
Stephens'  Escape — Seizure  of  my  Defence  Papers — The  Trial — The  Packed 
Jury — The  Packed  Bench — Keogh  and  Fitzgerald — Conviction  and  Sentence 
for  Life — Search  for  my  Treasonable  Documents. 

CHAPTER  VI ....Page  72. 

Convicted — The  Black  Van  and  the  Cavalr}" — Mountjoy  Convict  Prison- 
Dressing,  Registering,  Shaving  and  Photographing— Sympathetic  Tears — For- 


6  CONTENTS. 

bidden  to  Write — A  Bed,  but  no  Sleep — My  Government  Acquaintance — The 
Convicts'  Priest — Religious  Books — A  Blinker  Pew  in  Chapel — Feeling  My 
Pulse  and  Fit  for  a  Journey — Meet  the  Convicts  O'Leary,  Luby,  "  Pa^an," 
Moore  and  Haltigan — Tight  Irons — Departure — More  Sympathizing  Tears, 
and  a  Few  Opinions  on  "Peelers"  and  other  British  Pensioners — Old  Dun- 
leary— The  Convict  Ship— "  Respectable"  People— A  Word  of  My  Com- 
panions— The  "  Pagan  "  and  His  Work — Soldiers  and  Arms. 

CHAPTER  VII- .. -Page  82. 
In  England — Christmas  Eve — London — Pentonville  Prison — Stripped  of 
Flannels — Clothes  Searched — Naked — Cell  and  Cell  Furniture — Solitary  Con- 
finement— Cold  and  Hunger — Christmas  Fair — My  Trade  and  Occupation — 
Reading  the  Rules— Forbidden  to  Write — The  Doctor — Airing  or  Exercise  in 
the  Refractory  Yard — My  Library — The  Prison  Directions — Dreams  of  Happi- 
ness. 

CHAPTER  VIII- --.Page  97. 

Arrival  in  Pentonville  Prison,  London — Stripped — Deprived  of  Flannels — 
Fixed  in  my  Quarters — Bed  and  Board,  Etc. 

CHAPTER  IX  - . .  _  Page  124. 

Lodged  in  Portland — Boots  and  Books — New  Cells — Rain  Down — 
Director  Fagan  from  Cork — His  Letter  Regarding  us — No  Catholic  or  Irish 
Warders  to  Have  Charge  of  Us — The  Broad  Arrow — "Amulets  or  Charms" 
— The  Wash-House — Stationary  Tubs  and  Soap  Suds — Dodging  About  for  a 
Clean  Job  of  Work— Pumping  and  Picking  Linen — Denis  Dowling  Mulcahy 
Our  Priest — His  Sermons  and  P-alms — A  Sunday  in  Portland — Parade  and 
Salaams— Oil  and  Blacking— "Orderlies"  and  Slop— The  Evil  Eye— For- 
bidden to  Walk  or  Stretch  in  My  Cell — Bread  and  Water — Dietary  Table. 

CHAPTER  X_._.Pagb  134. 
Removed  from  the  Wash-house  and  Sent  to  the  Quarries — Nobbling — 
I  Become  a  Quarry  man — "Reported"  and  "Degraded" — Tried  and  Con- 
demned Without  Witnesses — Privy  Cleaning — Rain  Down  in  Our  Cells — 
Earning  Marks — Eighteen  Months  in  Prison  After  Death — Cannot  Speak 
High  or  Low — "  Do  You  Defy  the  Prison  Authorities" — Pat  Barry's  Jugglery 
and  Punishment — Donald  Bane,  the  Scotchman,  and  His  Razor — ""Can- 
not You  Fellows  Shave  Each  Other" — Michael  O'Regm  Joked  and  Charles 
Kickham  Shoved  by  Cunning — William  Roantree's  Illness — Martin  Hanly 
Carey  Breaks  a  Finger,  and  the  Doctor  Makes  Him  Work  with  One  Hand — 
I  Trv  to  be  as  Good  as  an  English  Gentleman  Convict  and  Tear  My  Clothes — 
"  Mutiny  "—I'd  "  Suck  Another  Man's  Blood  "—Michael  O'Regan  and  the 
Prison  Priests. 

CHAPTER  XI Page  150. 

yisits — Demands  for  Visitors'  Expenses— Devils — My  Wife  and  Child  in 
Prison — My  Memorandum  Book — My  Wife's  Poems— My  Letter — Fear  of 
Publicity— Compromise  with  the  Governor — My  Love  Letters  on  a  Slate — 
Determination  to  write  Surreptitious  Letters — Convict  Lynch — His  Gift  of 
Pen,  Ink,  and  Paper — "  Conspiracy"  to  Break  Prison — Michael  Moore's  Fail- 
u.e_LiiU;rh  Brophy's  Failure — Myself  a  Hypocrite — Lynch  Detected  in  Carry- 
ing my  Letter — Punishment  of  Him  and  Me — Try  again — My  Amour  in  Prison 
— Brings  Bread  and  Water  and  Endless  Punishments  on  Me — Jerry  O'Dono- 
vtn.  of  Blarney — Rev.  Mr.  Zanetii — The  Devil— Ireland's  Soggarth  Aroon — 
Zanetti  Giving  Evidence  before  the  Commission — The  Evil  Eye — A  Petition  on 
"  Think  Well  on  It,"  and  what  came  of  it — Writing  in  the  Dark — Cat's  Eyes 
— My  Memorial  to  the  S-cretary  of  State — Jillen  Andy 

CHAPTER  XIII ...  Page  205. 
My  Carriage  in  Waiting — My  Breakfast— Fight  for  my  Dinner — Journey 
to  Millbank  Prison,  London— Thoughts  of  Escape— Supper— Reception  Ward 


CONTENTS.  7 

—Installed  in  Office— Tailoring  and  Theft— Letter  Writing— Scrubbing  Floor— 
Parap  Handle  and  Crank — Punished  for  not  doing  Two  Things  at  the  Same 
Time — Oakum  Picking  and  Picking  Coir. 

CHAPTER  XIV.... Page  225. 
Association  with  English  Convicts — Working  the  Pump — Irish  and  Eng- 
lish Poverty  and  the  Priest — Eating  a  Warder — Getting  Bread  at  Prayers — 
Task:  Work — Wetting  Coir — Punished  for  obeying  Orders — Lying  Warders 
aud  JGanibier — Extensive  Seizure— All  my  Writing  and  Writing  Material 
Captired — Change  of  Quarters  and  Bread  and  Water— Bully  Power's  attempt 
to  Bu»ly  Me — Separation  from  other  Prisoners — The  Soldier  Prisoners — Tele- 
graphing through  the  Walls— Honor  amongst  Thieves — A  "Cedar"  Lost  and 
my  Sfarch  for  it — Johnny  O'Brien  and  the  Irish  Republic — My  Prison  Poet — 
Turntyour  Face  to  the  Wall — New  Confederates — The  Red  Blood  of  Ireland 
will  Ifise  in  England — Reflections — The  Road  to  Freedom  Dangerous — Lord 
MacaiVLay's  New  Zealander — Swallowing  an  Ink-Bottle — Stealing  Paper — John 
Devojf  and  other  New-Corners— Swallowing  Power's  Pencil— Skeleton  Weight. 

\  CHAPTER  XV ... .  Page  238. 

Wag's  Visit — Lies  about  Letters — Knox  and  Pollock — A  Castlebar  Man 
Stealing  Ink  for  Me — Stealing  Paper — A  Narrow  Escape — My  Love  Letter  and 
the  Sham  Inquiry — Lying  Again — Lord  Devon's  Commission — Writing 
amongst  Fleas — Punished  for  having  my  Task  Work  Done  before  Time — Re^ 
fuse  to  go  to  Punishment  Cell — A  Terrible  Choking  and  Dragging — I  Barricade 
my  Door — It  is  Broken  in — Four  Months'  Cells — Meeting  John  Devoy — Taken 
111— Dr.  Pocklington— My  Body  covered  with  Boils— Effects  of  Low  Diet  and 
Confinement — Meditated  Mutiny  and  Outbreak — The  Devil  Visits  Me — Reflec- 
tions on  "  Burke  and  Froude" — My  Books  Taken  Away  and  Returned  Again 
— I  Threaten  to  Destroy  Cell  and  Muffle  my  Gaslight — Volunteering  to  Western 
Australia — Manchester  Rescue — Soldiers  Guarding  Us — Out  of  "  Punishment" 
and  in  it  Soon  Again — Meeting  James  Xavier  O'Brien — Patrick  Lennon — 
Stripped  Naked  Every  Day — Breaking  Spy-Hole  and  Door — Handcuffs,  Bloody 
Wrists,  and  Dark  Cells — Throttling  and  Threatening — Eating  "  on  All  Fours" 
—Break  my  Spoon  and  Wooden  Dish— Stuff  the  Key-Hole  and  Have  a  Little 
Fun,  and  Get  More  Bread  and  Water  for  it. 

CHAPTER  XVI. ...Page  258. 
Christmas  Day  or  "  Bread  and  Water  " — Telegraphing  to  John  Devoy — 
An  Archbishop  on  Stephens'  Escape — Sowing  Distrust — The  Handwriting  on 
the  Wall— The  Bible  in  the  Blackhole— A  Thief  Feeds  Me  ;  his  Letter  and  his 
Present— A  Stem  of  a  Dhudeen— Refuse  to  have  my  Picture  Taken,  except  the 
Queen  send3  for  it — Manchester  Murphy  and  Michael  O'Brien — A  Night  on  the 
Hills  of  Connaught — "  Fenianism  "  and  "  Ribbonism  " — Edward  Duffy  meet- 
ing with  his  Mother — Application  to  see  him  Dying  Refused— Preaching — A 
Wail — Meditated  Mischief — A  Change  for  the  Better  only  a  Preparation  for 
one  for  the  Worse — Journey  to  Chatham  Prison. 

CHAPTER  XVII... .Page  272. 
Reception  in  Chatham — I  Must  Learn  Drill  or  go  to  "  Jilligum  " — Asso- 
ciation with  Thieves— Stone  Breaking— Wheeling  Rubbish— Yoked  to  a  Cart 
—Light  Work,  Light  Wages  and  Light  Diet—"  Cos"  and  "  Jobbler  "—Pratt 
—A  Prison  Spy— I  Smash  my  Window— Refuse  to  pay  Salaams— Rev.  Mr. 
Duke,  Protestant  Chaplain— A  Cedar—  Cosgrove  Punished  and  Degraded  on 
my  Account— I  Learn  the  Prison  "  Slang"— Bearla  gar  na  Saor— Made  an 
Accessory  to  Theft—"  Snotty's"  Presbyterianism— "  I'll  Make  Some  one  pay 
for  this  yet"— "Ah,  Get  Out "—"  Insolence  and  Irreverence"  at  Chapel- 
Richard  O'Sullivan  Burke  and  Henry  S.  Mulleda— An  Escape  from  Having  my 
Neck  Cracked— I  "  Strike"— Throw  my  Hammer  over  the  Wall— Five  Ward- 
ers hold  me  Salaaming  to  the  Governor— He'd  Treat  me  -with  Contempt — My 
Resolution,  my  Prayer  and  my  "  Salute  "  t<>  ihe  Governor— Satisfaction— Hands 


8  CONTENTS. 

Tied  Behind  my  Back  35  Days— Bloody  Wrists— "Blood  for  Blood  "—The  Pur 
suit  of  Knowledge  under  Difficulties — Father  O'Sullivan — The  Destruction  of 
Popery  in  1866 — A  Book  out  of  Date — Director  Du  Cane — Giving  Tit  for  Tat — 
I  Break  up  the  Special  Party— "Jobbler's "  Good-bye— The  Thieves'  Kind- 
ness— Flogging  Prisoners — Meet  Rick  Burke  and  Harry  Mulleda — My  Sen- 
tence Read — Released  from  Irons. 

CHAPTER  XVIII- ... Page  293. 
My  New  Cell — The  Music  of  the  Waters — Handcuffs  and  Blackhole  Again 
—Break  My  Model  Water-Closet,  My  Bell-Handle,  My  Table,  etc.— Gambier's 
Visit  and  Hypocrisy — Deprived  of  My  Bed  and  Bible — Verse-Making — My 
Readings  and  My  Wife's — Deprived  of  Bed  and  Body  Clothes — A  Struggle — 
Knocked  Down,  Stripped,  Leaped  Upon,  and  Kicked — A  Reprieve — Meet  Hal- 
pin,  Warren,  and  Costello — A  Strike  Against  Clipping  and  Stripping — A  Fam- 
ily Quarrel — "  Erin's  Hope  "  and  Her  Heroes — Grass  Picking — Rick  Burke  and 
Harry  Mulleda — Wood-Chopping — Warren  Chops  a  Finger — Detected  Letter 
— Wrongfully  Imprisoned  Ten  Days — O'Hara's  Letter — Kept  from  Chapel — 
Extraordinary  Precautions — Ludicrous  Position  at  Prayers — Release  of  Cos- 
tello and  Warren — Arrival  of  John  M'Clure,  John  Devoy,  and  Captain  O'Con- 
nell— Brick- Cleaning  in  a  Refrigerator — The  Cup  of  Halpin's  Affliction  Flown 
Over — His  Illness  and  the  Doctor's  Indifference. 

CHAPTER  XIX.... Page  311. 

New  Arrivals — John  M'Clure — American-born  Irishmen,  and  Irish-born 
"  Sprallareens  " — New  Work — Stocking  Mending — "  Fox  and  Geese  " — Lies  of 
Bruce,  the  Secretary  of  State — Superstition  and  the  Bible — Hal  pin  "  Joining 
the  Service  in  a  Good  Time" — He  Strikes  Work,  and  Keeps  his  Hair  on  his 
Head— Mr.  O'Connell's  Sore  Foot  and  Dr.  Burns—"  I  Don't  Like  to  be  Here 
at  All,"  and  Warder  Browne — The  Tipperary  Election  and  the  Terror  of  the 
Authorities — John  Mitchells  Remarks — Visit  from  McCarthy  Downing,  M.  P. 
— Colonel  Warren  and  Patrick's  Day — The  Soldier  Prisoners — Mr.  Blake,  M. 
P.,  and  Australia — Mr.  Pigott's  and  John  F.  O'Donnell's  Visit — Mr.  A.  M. 
Sullivan — His  Opinion  on  the  "  Coup  D'Etat,"  and  My  Opinions  on  Him,  and 
on  His  "  Story  of  Ireland  " — Ireland  Over  the  Water. 

CHAPTER  XX.... Page  328. 
A  Chapter  of  Letters— The  Belmont  Fund— T.  F.  Donovan,  Wm.  R. 
Roberts — Maurice  and  Kate  SpPlane — Courtship  After  Marriage — Love  and 
War — My  Wife's  Letter  to  Mr.  Gladstone  and  His  Reply — Her  Letters  to  Me 
and  My  Replies — Apprehensions  of  Both  of  Us  Committing  Suicide — A  Ro- 
mance of  Real  Life. 

CHAPTER  XXI.... Page  361. 
The  Commission  of  Inquiry — Lord  Devon    Chairman — Examination  of 
Directors,  Governors,  Warders  and  Prisoners — Official  Falsehoods — Mr.  Bruce, 
the  Hon.  Secretary  of  State,  a  Convicted  Liar — The  Commissioners  Agree  in 
Their  Report,  but  the  "  Doctors  Differ." 

CHAPTER  XXII.... Page  415. 

One  of  the  Commissioners  in  Irons — Letters — Mr.  Gladstone  and  Mr. 
Bruce — Mr.  M'Carthy  Downing — "Amnesty" — Banishment  by  "  Victoria,  by 
the  Grace  of  God  " — A  Private  Letter  and  My  Reply — Leaving  Chatham  and 
Leaving  Halpin  Behind — The  Cuba — Forbidden  to  Touch  Irish  Soil  in  the 
Cove  of  Cork — Arrival  in  New  York — A  General  Jubilee  of  Welcome — I 
Must  be  a  Tammany  Man  or  Cease  to  be  an  Irishman — I  Rebel  Against  This, 
and  Sacrifice  my  Popularity  to  my  Independence — Irish-American  Politicians 
and  American  Politics — Collector  Murphy — Emigration — Tammany  Wal 
Cries;  "Grant  and  Murphy,"  "Murphy  and  Grant" — I  Commit  Political 
Suicide  with  the  Irish  People  by  Running  Against  Tweed,  and  Kill  Myseli 
Entirely  by  Becoming  a  Commune. and  Joining  Tennie  Claflin. 


O'DbNouN  Eossa's  Prison  Life. 


CHAPTER  L 


Jktroduction — A  Yiew   of    Ireland — A   Semi-political   and   Semi- 
religious  Chapter. 

Some  persons  have  the  gift  of  writing  agreeably  upon  disagree- 
able subjects,  and  it  would  take  one  of  these  gifted  people  to  make 
an  interesting  and  pleasant  book  out  of  a  very  unpleasant  kind  of 
life — that  is,  prison  life  in  England. 

I  don't  presume  to  think  it  is  generally  believed  that  prison-life 
in  England  is  worse  than  prison-life  anywhere  else  ;  indeed,  I  be- 
lieve the  opinion  prevails  that  it  is  better.  Englishmen  labor  very 
zealously  to  put  themselves  in  a  favorable  light  before  the  world, 
and  if  they  cannot  do  so  by  showing  any  superior  merit  in  them- 
selves, they  will  attempt  it  by  pointing  out  the  demerit  in  others. 
They  pry  into  nearly  all  the  prisons  of  the  world ;  opportunities  are 
afforded  them  for  learning  how  the  inmates  are  treated,  and  I  admit 
that  they  have  done  good  in  many  cases  by  throwing  light  upon 
deeds  of  darkness.  But  all  this  time  their  own  prisons  are  closed  to 
every  curious  inquisitor  ;  no  foreigner  can  enter  an  English  prison 
and  ask  a  convict  how  he  fares.  It  is  here  that  the  genius  of  this 
people  displays  itself  in  showing  up  the  barbarity  of  other  civilized 
people  and  drawing  a  sanctimonious  veil  over  its  own. 

As  this  book  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  readers  who  know  little 
of  Ireland  and  its  wrongs,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  say  something  of 
the  cause  of  my  imprisonment.  To  those  who  know  anything  of 
history  it  is  known  that  for  seven  hundred  years  Ireland  is  cursed 
with  as  cruel  a  government  as  ever  cursed  the  earth.  In  the  twelfth 
century  the  Normans  had  succeeded  in  conquering  England,  and 
coveting  Ireland,  they  laid  their  schemes  to  conquer  that  too.  They 
were  intensely  Catholic,  but  in  the  pursuit  of  conquest  they  never 
hesitated,  in  any  country,  to  ravage  convents  and  monasteries ;  but 
in  several  cases  they  were  religious  enough  to  endow  these  institu- 
tions also,  when  doing  so  would  further  their  ends,  or  when  an  ob- 
ject was  to  be  attained  by  showing  the  church  that  they  were  turn- 
ing the  plunder  of  their  neighbors  to  a  holy  use. 

The  English  interest  was  always  able  to  persuade  Rome  that  the 
Irish  were  bad  Catholics,  and  that  they  required  reformation.  At 
the  present  day,  when  England  is  Protestant,  it  is  able  to  do  this, 
and  to  get  Bulls  and  Bescripts  denunciatory  of  my  countrymen. 


2  O Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life. 

Seven  hundred  years  ago  an  English  king  making  such  a  represen- 
tation to  the  Pope  of  Rome,  received  from  him  authority  to  possess 
Ireland  for  the  purpose  of  improving  the  morals  of  its  people,  and 
during  these  seven  hundred  years  has  the  Irish  people  been  waging 
a  fierce  fight  against  the  efforts  England  has  been  making  to  "im- 
prove "  them  off  the  face  of  the  land.  England  always  brought  in 
the  name  of  religion  to  aid  her  in  the  conquest.  At  first  professing 
Catholicity,  she  had  her  English  priests  in  Ireland  proclaiming  that 
it  was  no  sin  to  kill  an  Irishman,  and  one  of  them  went  so  far  as  to 
declare  before  a  council  that  he  would  celebrate  Mass  on  a  Sunday 
morning,  after  killing  one,  without  making  it  an  act  of  confession. 

Then  came  the  Reformation,  and  she  commenced  to  persecute 
the  Irish  Catholics  and  root  out  the  whole  race,  because  they  would 
not  become  Protestant,  for  she  thought  that,  by  becoming  Protestant, 
they  may  become  less  Irish  or  more  English.  For  a  time  the  words 
Protestant  and  English  were  synonymous ;  also  the  words  Irish 
and  Catholic,  and  hence  arose  that  curse  of  religious  antagonism 
which,  for  three  centuries,  blighted  the  prospects  of  our  people  for 
independence.  The  English  interest  was  represented  by  Protest- 
antism principally,  and  the  interest  of  nationality  by  Catholicism — 
so  much  so  that  Catholic  Irishmen  came  to  feel  that,  in  fighting 
against  Protestantism,  they  were  fighting  against  England,  and,  in 
fighting  for  Catholicity,  they  were  fighting  for  Ireland.  The  priest 
was  the  person  most  sought  after,  most  persecuted  by  the  English, 
and  the  most  loved,  most  looked  to,  and  most  protected  by  the  Irish. 
He  became  the  guide  and  the  controller  of  their  action,  and  he  was 
ever  faithful  in  defending  and  leading  the  people  to  defend  the  inter- 
ests of  the  Church.  The  faith  and  the  spirit  of  liberty  in  the  people 
were  not  crushed,  and,  in  the  growing  enlightenment  of  the  present 
century,  England — for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  her  dominion — 
has  thought  proper  to  change  her  policy.  She  now  patronises  the 
Church,  hugs  to  her  bosom  its  dignitaries,  and  trusts  that  they — 
having  influence  over  the  people — will  keep  them  from  rebellion. 
Some  of  those  dignitaries  have  labored  hard  to  do  this  in  the  move- 
ment for  which  I  was  imprisoned.  It  is  in  times  of  peace  that  the 
Church  flourishes,  and,  in  the  interest  of  the  Church,  many  will  not 
blame  the  clergy.  Few  will  blame  them,  too,  for  opposing  a  re- 
bellion where  the  necessary  means  of  success  would  not  be  fore- 
calculated  ;  but,  where  I  could  be  at  issue  with  them  would  be  in 
the  matter  of  their  opposition  to  us  while  providing  the  means,  and 
few  will  deny  that  we  had  that  opposition  in  Ireland  during  the 
past  thirteen  years.  There  was  no  diocese  in  Ireland  where  the 
men  who  were  organizing  means  to  fight  England,  were  not  de- 
nounced from  the  altars  and  sent  away  from  the  confessionals  un- 
shriven.  It  is  right  also  to  add  that  there  was  no  diocese  in  which 
there  were  not  many  priests  to  bless  the  laborers  and  wish  God- 
speed to  the  work  ;  but  the  tongues  and  hands  of  these  clergymen 
ft  were  tied  "  as  they  themselves  would  say,  by  the  higher  ecclesi- 


(J Donovan  Rosso1  s  Priso7i  Life.  3 

astics,  while  the  "  bad  priests,"  as  we  called  them,  were  allowed  full 
scope  to  denounce  us  and  brand  us  as  infidels  before  we  were  any 
way  unfaithful. 

In  making  these  observations  wholly  regarding  the  action  of 
Catholics  toward  the  independence  of  Ireland,  I  must  not  be  un- 
derstood as  excluding  the  efforts  of  other  religious  people  in  that 
direction.  During  the  last  century  many  Protestants  and  Presby- 
terians were  sent  to  the  scaffold  and  the  convict-ship  for  daring  to 
maintain  that  they,  as  Irish-born  men,  should  have  an  independent 
Ireland;  and  in  the  late  revolutionary  movement  we  had  a  blending 
of  all  the  sects  for  liberty.  This  was  as  disagreeable  to  the  bigots 
as  to  the  English  enemy.  A  union  of  creeds  does  not  seem  desira- 
ble to  Church  or  State,  and  both  united  in  assailing  those  who  were 
bringing  it  about  as  traitorous  and  disreputable.  The  State  had 
some  reason  to  attack  them,  but  the  Church  had  very  little  ;  for 
those  who  were  banded  together  to  fight  for  civil  and  religious  lib- 
erty would  be  the  first  to  stand  in  defence  of  their  faith  if  any  foe 
threatened  their  altars.  The  Catholic  members  of  the  organization 
found  themselves,  at  the  outset,  denounced  by  Catholic  priests;  and 
this  gave  birth  to  a  strange  feeling  in  the  breasts  of  young  men  who 
grew  up  looking  upon  a  priest  as  the  embodiment  of  hostility  to 
England.  They  considered  that  in  resolving  to  battle  for  the  rights 
of  their  native  land,  they  had  taken  a  noble  resolution,  and,  in 
swearing  to  do  so  they  did  not  feel,  between  themselves  and  their 
God,  that  they  had  committed  a  sin.  But  finding  themselves  con- 
demned, nay  damned,  for  this  act,  afforded  them  food  for  reflection, 
and  what  wonder  if  some  of  them  disregarded  the  denunciations 
and  labored  on  ?  I  did.  I  saw  that  the  time  was  gone  when  the 
priest  and  the  people  were  as  one  persecuted.  I  saw  that  the  priest 
was  free  and  comparatively  happy,  while  the  people  were  still  en- 
slaved, and  decidedly  miserable.  The  tradition  that  my  boyhood 
received  of  fighting  for  my  religion  in  fighting  for  my  country,  and 
in  fighting  for  my  country  I  was  fighting  for  my  religion,  was  broken; 
for  here  I  had  sworn  to  fight  for  Ireland,  and  I  was  set  upon  as  an 
enemy  of  Catholicity.  The  calumny  is  kept  up  ;  but  I  can  afford  to 
live  it  down.  The  politico-religious  faith  of  my  fathers  is  taken  to 
pieces,  and  as  the  Irish  head  of  the  Church  believes  that  in  fighting 
for  Ireland  now  I  am  not  fighting  for  Catholicity,  I  must  presume, 
on  the  other  hand  to  believe  that  in  fighting  for  Catholicity  I  am 
not  at  all  fighting  for  Ireland.  I  don't  put  my  country  before  my 
God  ;  but  I  put  it  before  religious  ascendency  of  any  denomination. 
The  Church  has  many  defenders,  and  needs  my  aid  as  little  as  she 
need  fear  my  hostility  ;  Ireland  has  few,  and  I  am  beginning  to 
fear  they  will  not  be  able,  unless  aided  more  earnestly  than  they 
have  been,  to  work  out  her  immediate  salvation. 

I  do  not  write  my  book  as  a  champion  of  religion,  or  as  one  who 
would  assail  it.  I  write  neither  as  a  Catholic  nor  as  a  Protestant. 
I  come  before  the  public  merely  as  an  Irishman,  wishing  to  see  my 


4:  O Donovan  Eossd    Prison  Life. 

country  free  for  all  religious  denominations  ;  and  wishing  to  see, 
for  the  purpose  of  overcoming  them,  all  the  obstacles  that  stand  in 
the  way  of  its  freedom.  If  I  speak  of  the  interference  of  religious 
people  in  its  political  concerns,  it  is  not  from  choice,  but  from  ne- 
cessity. I  hold  it  absolutely  impossible  for  any  one  to  speak  truly 
of  the  movements  of  the  people  towards  independence  if  he  ignores 
the  religious  elements  that  are  set  in  motion  to  sway  the  people  to 
one  side  or  the  other.  Religion  and  politics  are  as  yet  in  Ireland 
inseparable.  I  should  like  to  see  the  man  who  could  give  a  history 
of  the  one  without  touching  on  the  other.  I  could  not  do  so  ;  and 
j,s  I  am  going  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  I 
am  not  going  to  attempt  such  a  story;  but  I  will  "nothing  extenu- 
ate or  aught  set  down  in  malice." 

As  this  professes  to  be  an  account  of  my  prison  life,  I  ought, 
perhaps,  to  have  you,  my  readers,  inside  the  prison  walls  long  ago, 
but  I  do  not  think  it  improper  to  have  a  little  chat  with  you  before- 
hand, so  that  you  may  understand  the  cause  of  my  imprisonment 
and  judge  whether  or  not  I  was  deserving  of  it.  If  I  was,  I  sup- 
pose I  will  have  very  little  of  your  sympathy  in  connection  with 
my  suffering.  But  it  is  not  for  sympathy  I  write  ;  and  as  to  my 
suffering,  it  may  not  be  much  more  in  prison  than  the  suffering  of 
many  who  were  out  of  prison.  In  order  to  achieve  anything  men 
must  be  prepared  for  suffering,  and  if  they  are  not,  and  do  not  dare 
it,  they  will  lag  behind.  Men  must  be  ready  to  brave  all  they  will 
hear  from  me,  within  and  without  the  prison,  if  they  mean  to  free 
Ireland  ;  and  if  the  words  of  my  experience  be  of  no  use  to  the 
present  generation,  they  may  be  to  the  next  or  the  one  after  the 
next.  I  will  end  this  chapter  with  a  quotation  :  "Providence,  in 
order  to  accomplish  its  desires  in  all  things,  requires  a  lavish  ex- 
penditure of  courage,  of  virtues,  and  of  sacrifices — in  a  word,  of 
man  himself;  and  it  is  only  after  an  unknown  number  of  unrecorded 
labors,  after  a  host  of  noble  hearts  have  succumbed  in  discourage- 
ment, believing  the  cause  to  be  lost,  it  is  only  then  that  the  cause 
triumphs."  We,  it  seems,  ha^e  not  made  sacrifices  enough  yet ; 
but  from  the  amount  of  discouragement  we  have  had,  we  would  be 
warranted  in  believing  in  our  triumph  being  immediate  if  we  had 
faith  in  the  writer  of  the  quotation. 


CHAPTER    n. 


Ireland's  Suffering — Providence — Famine — Our  Fathers'  Crimes 
— '98  and  '48 — Protestants  and  Catholics — Egotism — The 
PHcorrt  Socdsty — Mr.  Stephens'  Visit  to  Skibbereen — Joining 
the  Revolutionary  Society,  May,  '58 — American  Aid — Drilling 
— Police  Hunts — Too  Fast  for  the  Irish  Americans — Arrests 
December,  '58 — Extra  Police — Meeting  with  "William  O'Shea, 
Tim  McCarthy,  Jerry  Cullinane  and  Denis  O'Sullivan — Bantry 
Prisoners — Lodged  in  Cork  Jail. 

In  the  face  of  all  that  Ireland  has  suffered  and  all  the  sacrifices  she 
has  made  to  attain  her  liberty,  I  cannot  attach  much  importance 
to  the  concluding  sentences  of  the  last  chapter.  I  do  not  attribute 
the  misfortune  of  our  slavery  to  Providence ;  as  little  do  I  attribute 
the  "famine  "  of  '47  to  that  Power.  We  are  bound  down  by  Eng- 
land. She  has  the  stren  gth  to  rob  us  of  the  produce  of  our  soil 
till  we  are  reduced  to  famine  diet,  and  I  should  be  thinking  very 
ill  of  our  people,  and  very  ill  of  our  Creator,  if  I  attributed  our 
state  to  anything  else  but  a  temporal  tyranny,  living  and  acting  in 
this  world  in  which  we  live. 

What  have  our  fathers  done  out  of  the  way  that  they  should  be 
scourged  with  a  rod  of  iron  for  seven  hundred  years  ?  What  have 
they  done  against  God  or  man  more  than  England  has  done,  that 
we,  their  children,  should  be  sown  broadcast  over  the  wastes  of  the 
world — many  of  us  to  perish  unheard  of  and  unknown — nay,  desir- 
ous, alas  !  not  to  be  known  ?  It  may  be  irreligious  to  doubt  this 
"  will  of  God  "  in  our  bondage,  but  I  would  rather  be  considered  so 
than  do  violence  to  my  own  feelings  in  my  opinions  of  His  justice. 

Within  the  last  century  our  country  has  been  full  of  adventure 
in  resistance  to  her  opppressor ;  but  we  have  not  had  the  prepara- 
tion necessary  to  resist  successfully. 

In  '98  we  had  some  brave  fighting;  but  many  of  us  acted  timidly 
while  a  few  of  us  were  fighting  bravely.  For  instance,  the  County 
of  Wexford  was  up  in  arms,  and  the  other  thirty-one  counties  of 
Ireland  remained  looking  on — standing  on  the  fence  to  see  how 
the  fight  would  go.  If  successful,  they  would  come  in  with  a  help- 
ing hand,  and  with  their  hurrahs,  when  neither  were  wanting;  bat 
they  didn't  or  wouldn't  come  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  the  Wexford 
men  were  overpowered,  Had  their  action  been  imitated  by  the 
men  of  every  other  county  in  Ireland,  we  would  to-day  have  a  dif- 


6  O1  Donovan  Rossrfs  Prison  Life. 

ferent  story  to  chronicle,  and  we  would  have  no  necessity  to  keep 
appealing  to  our  people  to  act  in  concert  and  to  work  unitedly. 

In  '48  there  was  another  uprising,  and  another  failure,  in  conse- 
quence principally  of  not  having  arms  to  put  into  the  hands  of  the 
people,  who  sprung  forward  to  use  them.  It  is  noteworthy,  in 
view  of  the  efforts  of  the  enemy  to  perpetuate  religious  dissensions 
amongst  us,  and  to  make  the  word  Protestant  synonymous  with 
the  word  Englishman,  that  the  men  who  were  most  prominent,  and 
who  suffered  most  in  the  advocacy  of  the  cause  of  Irish  indepen- 
dence during  the  periods  I  speak  of,  were  Protestants;  and  it  is  but 
equal  justice  to  the  Catholic  portion  of  the  community  to  state  that 
they  respected  these  men  and  reverenced  their  memories  more  than 
they  did  men  of  their  own  creed.  The  names  of  Tone,  and  Fitz- 
gerald, and  Emmet,  and  Davis,  and  Mitchel,  and  O'Brien  will  live 
as  long  in  the  future,  and  be  as  dear  to  Irishmen,  as  any  other 
names  in  their  history. 

After  the  English  government  had  crushed  the  movement  in 
'48,  Ireland  appeared  spiritless  and  politically  dead.  Charles  Gavan 
Duffy  left  the  country  in  '54,  saying  he  left  the  cause  of  freedom  a 
corpse  on  the  dissecting  table.  But,  like  the  seed  put  into  the 
ground,  it  must  only  have  been  rotting  to  produce  new  life  ;  for  a 
few  years  after  we  find  it  in  vigorous  existence  again,  and  the  au- 
thorities putting  forth  all  their  strength  to  overcome  it.  My  own 
experiences  now  commence,  and,  like  all  writers  who  have  anything 
to  say  of  movements  in  which  they  took  part,  I  must  become  a  bit 
of  an  egotist.  I  can  not  tell  the  rest  of  this  story  without  saying 
something  of  the  writer  of  it.  It  is  no  matter  to  you,  kind  reader, 
whether  I  like  to  talk  of  myself  or  not ;  the  thing  has  to  be  done  in 
order  to  carry  out  my  arrangements,  and  I  am  not  going  to  shrink 
from  my  duty,  even  though  the  doing  so  might  be  a  relief  to  me. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1858,  one  of  my  companions  called  into 
my  residence  in  Skibbereen  and  asked  me  to  take  a  walk  with  him, 
as  he  had  something  of  importance  to  communicate  to  me.  I  went 
out,  and  during  our  ramble  up  the  Steam-mill  road  he  informed 
me  that  on  the  preceding  evening  he  had  received  a  note  of 
introduction  from  a  stranger,  given  to  him  by  a  mutual  friend 
in  Bandon.  The  stranger  told  him  that  the  Irishmen  in  America 
had  resolved  to  aid  us  at  home  in  achieving  the  independence  of 
Ireland,  and  the  aid  was  to  consist  of  arms  and  of  men.  If  we  had 
a  certain  number  of  men  sworn  to  fight,  there  would  be  an  equal 
number  of  arms  in  Ireland  for  these  men  when  enrolled,  and  an 
invading  force  of  from  five  to  ten  thousand  before  the  start.  The 
arms  were  to  be  in  the  country  before  the  men  would  be  asked  to 
stir  ;  they  would  not  be  given  into  their  hands,  but  they  were  to 
be  kept  in  hiding-places  until  the  appointed  time,  when  every 
Centre  could  take  his  men  to  the  spot  and  get  the  weapons. 
As  soon  as  we  had  enrolled  the  men  willing  to  fight  we  were  to  get 
military  instructors  to  teach  us  how  to  do  so  as  soldiers.    I  jumped 


Ol 'Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life.  7 

at  the  proposition  of  "joining ;"  and  next  day  I  inoculated  a  few  others 
whom  I  told  to  go  and  do  likewise.  The  stranger  who  came  to  the 
town  that  May  evening  was  Mr.  Stephens,  and  I  was  promised  an 
introduction  to  him  in  a  short  time  if  I  would  work  well.  We  had 
a  society  in  Skibbereen  at  this  time  called  the  Phoenix  National  and 
Literary  Society.  It  was  a  revolutionary  one,  though  not  oath- 
bound,  and  we  were  contemplating  affiliations  in  connection  with 
it  in  the  neighboring  towns  around  at  the  time  I  speak  of.  We 
gave  it  the  name  Phoenix  to  signify  that  the  nation  was  to  rise 
again  from  its  ashes.  We  had  about  one  hundred  members,  and 
before  a  month  had  elapsed  from  the  day  of  Mr.  Stephens'  visit 
we  had  over  ninety  of  them  enrolled  in  the  new  movement. 

Before  the  autumn  months  had  passed  away  we  had  the  whole 
district  of  country  in  a  blaze,  and  in  October  we  had  a  drill-master 
sent  to  us  from  Dublin.  He  had  served  a  period  in  the  American 
army,  and  well  and  truly  he  did  his  work  amongst  us,  despite  all 
the  police  watchings  and  huntings.  One  night  we  were  on  a 
mountain  side,  another  night  in  the  midst  of  a  wood,  another  in  a 
fairy  fort,  and  another  in  a  cellar.  We  had  outposts  on  every  oc- 
casion, who  signaled  to  us  of  any  approaching  danger,  and  in  the 
darkness  of  the  nights  many  things  were  signalled  as  dangers 
which  were  quite  harmless  ;  and  we  had  many  adventures  in  scat- 
tering which  were  subjects  for  our  amusement  at  the  next  meeting. 
In  Loriga  wood  one  evening  the  sentry  gave  us  the  signal  to  scatter, 
and  we  ran  in  the  direction  opposite  to  that  from  which  we  appre- 
hended the  danger.  I  was  the  second  m*m;  he  who  was  before  me 
got  up  on  a  ditch  and  made  a  leap  to  cross  a  large  dyke  at  the 
other  side  of  it,  but  he  slipped  and  didn't  get  across  clear.  As  he 
lay  at  the  other  side  I  leaped  upon  him,  the  next  man  leaped  upon 
me,  and  before  a  minute  nine  or  ten  of  us  were  sprawling  in  the 
dyke.  In  these  drillings  we  departed  from  the  programme  of 
organization,  for  we  brought  more  men  together  than  ought  to  be 
known  to  each  other,  and  this  we  had  to  do  to  keep  them  in  good 
humor,  for  when  it  was  known  the  military  instructor  was  in  the 
district,  every  company  was  calling  out  for  his  attendance,  and  as 
he  couldn't  be  everywhere  we  had  only  to  bring  the  men  every- 
where to  where  he  was.  The  first  man  who  learned  the  art 
from  him  and  became  his  assistant,  and  his  substitute  when  he  was 
gone,  was  Colonel  P.  J.  Downing,  now  of  Washington.  It  is  said 
that  people  in  America  are  a  fast  people,  and  the  Irish  there  are 
not  exempted  from  the  benefit  of  the  expression;  but  in  Ireland, 
when  it  was  a  question  of  uniting  to  fight  against  England,  we 
were  too  fast  for  our  brothers  across  the  Atlantic,  for  we  had  the 
men  ready  to  fight  before  they  had  given  us  the  arms  to  do  so. 

The  Government  took  alarm  and  they  took  measures  to  have  a 
number  of  us  arrested  and  cast  into  prison.  About  four  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  5th  of  December  I  was  roused  out  of  bed,  and 
I  found  my  house  surrounded  by  police.  I  was  taken  to  the  station, 


8  O1  Donovan  Rosso1  s  Prison  Life. 

and  there  I  met  some  twenty  others  of  my  acquaintance.  Many  of 
them  had  left  my  house  only  a  few  hours  before,  for  we  were  sit- 
ting up  doing  the  honors  to  one  of  our  company,  Dan  M'Cartie, 
who  was  leaving  town  next  morning  to  discharge  the  duties  of 
brewer  in  Ballinasloe,  and,  as  we  met  in  the  police  barrack,  we 
commenced  joking  at  the  ominous  appropriateness  of  the  last  song 
sung  by  Mortimer  Moynahan  : — 

"Hurra for  the  wild  wintry  weather, 

While  the  nights  pass  so  gaily  along, 
As  we  sit  by  the  fire  altogether, 

And  drown  the  loud  tempest  in  song. 
Hurra  !   let  the  peals  of  our  laughter 

Arise  and  he  heard  far  away, 
Our  lives  may  be  gloomy  hereafter — 

Then  let  us  be  glad  while  we  may. 

"Hurra  for  the  wild  wintry  weather — 

The  summer  has  bright  leafy  bowers  ; 
But,  'tis  thus,  round  the  fire  altogether, 

Young  and  old  spend  their  happiest  hours. 
Hurra  !  let  us  all  swell  the  chorus 

'Till  it  rise  and  be  heard  far  away  ; 
Perhaps  some  dark  cloud  gathers  o'er  us — 

Then  let  us  be  glad  while  we  may." 

A  number  of  extra  police  had  been  sent  from  Dublin  to  Skib- 
bereen  two  months  before  our  seizure.  These  were  on  duty  every 
night  in  all  parts  of  the  suburbs  of  the  town,  and,  though  we  were 
on  duty  too,  they  never,  by  any  chance,  surprised  us  at  our  drill- 
ings. The  night  of  the  arrests  the  police  of  the  surrounding  vil- 
lages were  drafted  into  the  town.  The  authorities  were  terribly 
alarmed  ;  they  apprehended  that  we  had  arms  and  that  we  would 
resist,  when  we  had  very  few  weapons  and  didn't  dream  of  fighting 
till  we  got  the  orders.  Each  of  us  was  handcuffed  between  two 
policemen  going  from  Clonakilty  to  Bandon,  or,  to  express  myself 
more  clearly,  two  policemen  were  handcuffed  to  every  one  of  us. 
In  the  Bandon  prison  we  met  some  men  from  Bantry,  arrested  on 
the  same  charge  as  we  were,  and  on  their  way  to  Cork  Jail.  We 
were  huddled  into  cells  flooded  with  water  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening  having  been  travelling  all  day  under  rain,  and  having 
received  neither  food  nor  drink,  and  now  we  wouldn't  get  a  bed  nor 
bread.  Next  morning  we  found  ourselves  in  Cork  Jail,  awaiting 
evidence  on  a  charge  of  conspiracy. 


CHAPTER  in. 


Oakum  and  Solitary  Confinement — Black  Bread  and  Leek  Por- 
ridge— Eating  in  the  Dark — Mock  Trial  in  Prison — False 
Swearing  about  Drilling,  etc. — "Marching  in  Military  Or- 
der " — Patrick's  Day  in  the  Dock — Sent  Back  to  Prison  Again 
— Plead  Guilty — Jury  Packing — Lord  O'Hagan — Patriotism  of 
the  Irish  Bar  a  Sham — First  Working  of  the  Revolutionary 
Movement  in  '58 — Mortimer  Moynahan  "  Steeped  to  the  Lips 
in  Treason" — Centres  and  Circles — Opposition  of  the  Clergy 
— Absolution  Refused — The  Jubilee — The  Bishop  and  Dr. 
Doyle — GrvE  to  Cesar  What's  Due  to  Cesar — The  Police  Spy 
System — Altar  Denunciation — Rev.  Mr.  O' Sullivan's  Informa- 
tion to  the  Government,  and  Mr.  Sullivan's  (of  the  "Nation") 
Note  of  Warning — The  Evil  Effects  of  Curiosity. 

In  Cork  Jail  we  were  lodged  in  separate  cells,  and  got  oakum  to 
pick.  We  asked  were  we  obliged  to  work  before  we  were  convicted, 
and  we  were  told  we  should  work  unless  we  paid  for  our  mainte- 
nance. Half  a  dozen  of  the  men  made  arrangements  to  get  their 
own  food,  and  the  rest  of  us  thought  we  would  inure  ourselves  to 
hardships;  but  we  could  not  eat  the  fare  we  got,  and  this,  with  the 
solitary  confinement  imposed,  starved  us  out  of  our  resolution  "  to 
suffer  and  be  strong."  The  bread  was  made  from  rye  wheat;  it 
had  the  appearance  of  brown  hand-turf,  and  you  could  squeeze  the 
water  out  of  it.  The  porridge  was  about  the  same  color,  but  it 
was  flavored  with  leeks,  which  made  it  disgusting  to  look  at,  for, 
when  you  drew  your  spoon  out  of  the  bowl,  you  drew  up  one  of 
these  leeks  half  a  foot  long,  and  unless  you  had  gone  through  a 
course  of  starvation — as  I  had  gone  through  in  the  English  prisons 
— your  stomach  would  refuse  to  receive  it  as  food.  One  of  the 
prisoners  said  he  could  manage  to  eat  it  in  no  way  but  by  keeping 
his  eyes  closed  while  at  it. 

After  being  a  week  in  this  prison,  we  were  told  that  the  charge 
would  not  be  ready  against  us  for  a  week.  The  second  week 
passed  by,  and  then  we  learned  the  cause  of  our  arrest.  We  were 
led  into  a  room  in  the  prison,  where  sat  four  gentlemen  awaiting 
us.  Two  of  them  were  stipendiary  magistrates,  and  the  others, 
Sir  Matthew  Barrington,  and  his  assistant,  crown  prosecutors.  We 
were  told  there  was  a  charge  of  conspiracy  against  us,  and  that 
one  of  the  conspirators,  seeing  the  wickedness  of  our  project,  and 


10  G  Donovan  Eossas  Prison  Idfe. 

regretting  his  part  in  it,  had  come  forward  to  give  evidence.  In  a 
word,  they  had  an  informer  to  swear  against  us.  He  was  brought 
into  the  room,  and  most  of  us  recognized  him  as  one  we  had  seen 
before;  his  name  was  Dan  Sullivan  Goula.  He  swore  that  he  saw 
me  drilling  three  hundred  men  on  a  by-road,  within  a  mile  ot 
Skibbereen,  one  night  at  ten  o'clock.  He  swore  he  saw  me  another 
night  drilling  some  twenty  men  in  a  room  in  the  town,  but  every- 
thing he  swore  was  false ;  he  never  saw  me  drilling  these  men,  nor 
did  these  drillings  ever  take  place;  but  he  saw  me  in  the  room 
with  the  twenty  men,  and  he  swore  against  every  one  of  these 
twenty  that  they  were  present  the  night  of  the  three  hundred. 
This  was  for  the  purpose  of  having  every  one  arrested  who  could 
prove  the  falsehood,  and  he  was  instructed  to  swear  this  way  by 
one  of  the  stipendiary  magistrates,  Fitzmaurice.  This  gentleman 
had  a  great  character  for  breaking  up  what  are  called  Ribbon  so- 
cieties in  the  North  of  Ireland,  and  for  getting  informers  amongst 
them,  and  a  few  weeks  before  the  arrests  in  Skibbereen  he  was  sent 
to  that  town  on  special  duty.  One  of  the  prisoners,  named  Tim 
Duggan,  hearing  how  Goula  was  telling  lies  of  him  in  his  presence, 
made  a  move  as  if  to  approach  him;  the  informer  cried  out  that 
Duggan  was  going  to  strike  him,  and  the  prisoner  was  threatened 
with  all  kinds  of  punishment  if  he  attempted  to  intimidate  the  wit- 
ness from  giving  evidence.  We  were  represented  by  a  very  clever 
solicitor,  Mr.  McCarthy  Downing,  who  is  now  member  of  Parlia- 
ment for  Cork,  and  it  is  but  justice  to  him  to  say  that  throughout 
these  cases  he  did  us  invaluable  service  in  defeating  the  attempts 
of  the  Government  to  suborn  more  witnesses  against  us.  He  de- 
manded that  the  gentlemen  of  the  press  should  be  allowed  into  the 
prison,  to  be  present  at  the  proceedings,  but  his  demand  was  re- 
fused, while  at  the  same  time  the  slavish  writers  of  the  Anglo-Irish 
journals  were  obeying  the  behests  of  the  Crown,  and  representing 
that  all  kinds  of  horrible  things  were  being  brought  to  light  con- 
cerning this  horrible  conspiracy. 

According  to  English  law,  the  evidence  of  an  informer,  uncor- 
roborated, is  insufficient  to  detain  men  in  prison,  and  the  meanest 
shifts  were  resorted  to  to  get  other  evidence.  The  police  had  been 
watching  after  us  for  months,  and  could  adduce  nothing  illegal 
against  us ;  but  now  they  were  threatened  by  this  Fitzmaurice  that 
if  they  did  not  make  informations  to  corroborate  Goula  they  would 
be  deprived  of  their  situations.  This  was  after  the  first  week  of 
our  imprisonment,  as  I  since  learned  from  some  of  the  policemen 
who  swore  against  myself,  and  before  the  end  of  the  second  week 
a  dozen  of  them  had  sworn  something  against  us.  One  young 
"  peeler  "  swore  that  he  saw  Denis  Downing  marching  through  the 
streets  of  Skibbereen  "in  military  order;"  and  when  our  solicitor, 
in  cross-examination,  asked  him  who  was  walking  with  the  prisoner, 
he  answered:  "  No  one  but  himself!"  So  that  walking  through  the 
town  with  an  independent  tread  was  considered  by  this  protector 


G> Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life.  11 

of  the  law  as  something  that  would  corroborate  the  informer  in 
what  he  swore  about  the  drilling. 

All  the  men  arrested  were  released  on  bail  except  myself  and 
five  others.  We  were  condemned  to  remain  in  prison  to  await  trial 
at  the  March  assizes.  The  March  assizes  came,  and  we  were  ready 
for  trial;  but  the  Government  would  not  try  us.  They  brought  us 
into  the  court  on  Patrick's  Day,  '59,  and  ordered  us  to  be  sent  back 
to  prison  again  to  await  trial  at  the  assizes  of  the  following  July. 
Our  counsel  asked  if  we  would  not  be  admitted  to  bail,  and  they 
were  told  not.  Back  we  went  to  prison,  and  remained  there  till 
July,  and  then  they  would  not  try  us,  but  threatened  us  with  an- 
other postponement  of  trial  till  the  succeeding  March  unless  we 
pleaded  guilty  to  the  charges  against  us,  in  which  case  we  would 
get  our  freedom.  We  had  been  refusing  to  do  this  since  the  first 
assizes,  because  we  knew  that  we  could  disprove  the  evidence  of 
the  informer.  Our  prosecutors  knew  this,  too,  and  though  they 
were  eager  for  our  conviction,  they  doubted  their  success  before 
the  public  court,  even  with  a  packed  jury.  They  had  tried  Daniel 
O'Sullivan  (Agreem)  with  a  packed  jury  in  Tralee,  and  had  him 
sentenced  to  ten  years'  penal  servitude ;  and  now,  as  a  last  resource 
of  getting  their  ends  of  us,  they  offered  to  release  Agreem  if  we 
would  plead  guilty,  and  to  this  we  consented. 

It  is  not  easy  to  get  the  better  of  your  enemy  when  he  has  you 
under  lock  and  key.  The  English  law  presumes  that  every  man 
is  innocent  until  he  is  proven  guilty;  but  in  political  cases  in  Ire- 
land the  practice  is  quite  the  contrary,  for  every  man  is  treated  as 
guilty  until  he  proves  himself  innocent.  We  were  eight  months  in 
prison,  and  it  would  never  tell  for  the  justice  of  the  great  nation 
that  she  had  subjected  us  to  imprisonment  so  long,  with  the  Ha- 
beas Corpus  Act  un suspended,  unless  she  could  show  that  we  were 
criminals;  therefore,  it  was  necessary  to  get  us  to  put  in  the  plea 
in  vindication  of  the  justice  of  our  incarceration.  Perhaps  we 
were  wrong  in  relieving  the  Government  from  this  odium;  but  we 
relieved  ourselves  from  imprisonment,  and  also  relieved  him  who 
was  committed  for  ten  years.  We  were  to  appear  for  judgment  on 
this  plea  of  guilty — if  we  were  ever  guilty  of  a  repetition  of  the 
charge  against  us;  but  we  were  to  get  fourteen  days'  notice  to  ap- 
pear, and  during  these  fourteen  days  we  were  at  liberty  to  leave 
the  country  if  we  liked.  I  want  this  to  be  remembered  when  I 
come  to  speak  of  my  trial  before  Judge  Keogh  in  1865.  We  were 
released  from  prison  in  July,  1859,  and  the  authorities  were  so 
mean  as  to  keep  Dan  O'Sullivan  (Agreem)  in  jail  till  November, 
though  his  immediate  release  was  promised  to  us. 

Talking  of  jury  packing,  I  am  reminded  of  what  late  Irish  pa- 
pers bring  under  prominent  notice — that  is,  Lord  O'Hagan's  advo- 
cacy of  the  bill  for  that  purpose  now  passing  through  the  English 
Parliament.  He  was  our  counsel  at  these  Phoenix  trials;  and  in 
the  defence  of  Dan  O'Sullivan  he  spent  eight  or  ten  hours  in  de- 


12  O  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life. 

nunciation  of  the  packing  of  juries  against  his  client.  But  Lord 
O'Hagan,  the  great  Catholic  champion,  is  now  on  the  English  side 
of  the  House,  and  the  Irish  and  their  claims  to  anything  like  jus- 
tice or  fair  play  may  go  to  Jericho.  When  I  hear  these  Irish  law- 
yers at  their  law  dinners  prate  of  the  patriotism  of  the  Irish  bar, 
I  feel  that  I  have  heard  the  most  sublime  humbug  that  man  ever 
listened  to.  Dowse,  who  made  a  most  patriotic  speech  in  defence 
of  John  O'Leary,  was  next  year  prosecuting  John  O'Leary's  com- 
panions and  denouncing  his  principles. 

As  information  that  might  temper  future  action  in  Ireland  may 
be  drawn  from  my  experience  of  the  proceedings  that  led  to  my 
imprisonment  in  1858,  and  from  the  manner  in  which  this  informer 
Goula  turned  up,  I  may  be  allowed  to  trespass  upon  my  reader's 
attention  a  little  while  I  relate  what  may  be  of  interest  to  him 
should  he  ever  desire  to  do  anything  for  Irish  freedom  in  the  way 
of  %ht. 

I  lived  in  the  most  southern  town  of  Ireland,  and  with  the  as- 
surances given  us  of  a  struggle  in  the  immediate  future,  and  the 
belief  that  all  Ireland  was  working  towards  its  success,  we  resolved 
not  to  be  backward,  and  we  worked  with  all  our  energies  in  getting 
recruits  for  the  Irish  revolutionary  army.  He  who  did  most  in  ex- 
tending the  work  through  the  district  was  a  young  man  named 
Mortimer  Moynahan,  who  is  now  battling  with  the  world  in  the 
great  city  of  New  York.  He  was  manager  in  the  office  of  Mr. 
M'Carthy  Downing.  This  attorney  used  to  attend  every  sessions 
in  every  town  in  the  district;  he  did  the  largest  business  of  any 
lawyer  in  the  circuit,  and  used  to  take  Moynahan  with  him  as  an 
assistant.  Every  client  had  to  approach  the  big  man  through 
Mortimer's  hands,  who  marked  out  all  who  had  any  sort  of  Irish 
spirit  in  them,  and  swore  them  into  the  revolutionary  movement  at 
night  when  the  business  of  the  law  was  over ;  so  that  he  was  work- 
ing legally  by  day  and  illegally  by  night.  When  Attorney-General 
Whiteside  was  prosecuting  him,  a  few  months  afterwards,  he  de- 
scribed him  to  the  jury  as  "  one  who  was  steeped  to  the  lips  in  tiea- 
son."  Before  we  were  six  months  at  work  we  had  the  organization 
started  in  every  corner  of  the  south  of  Cork  and  in  a  part  of  Kerry. 
The  man  who  swore  me  in  was  first  appointed  Centre  of  a  circle 
comprising  820  men,  which  gave  him  the  direction  of  those  men; 
then  I  grew  big  enough  to  be  appointed  another  Centre;  then 
Moynahan,  and  then  two  others  for  the  remoter  country  districts 
around.  Fenians  in  America  may  talk  of  the  aid  they  have  given 
the  men  at  home ;  but  I  can  tell  them  that  the  men  at  home  spent 
out  of  their  own  pockets,  in  working  up  the  organization,  more 
money  than  the  Fenian  Brotherhood  collected  altogether.  The 
first  check  we  met  was  from  the  Catholic  clergy.  Our  men  came 
to  us  telling  that  they  were  driven  away  from  the  confessionals,  and 
would  not  get  absolution  unless  they  gave  up  the  oath. 

We  asked  them  did  they  think  they  committed  a  sin  in  taking 


C Donovan  Rosso1  s  Prison  Life.  13 

an  oath  to  fight  for  their  country's  freedom,  and  when  they  said 
they  did  not,  we  told  them  to  tell  the  priests  that  they  came  to 
confess  their  sins  and  not  their  virtues,  and  to  ask  the  priests  if 
they  had  sworn  to  fight  for  England  against  Ireland,  would  they  not 
get  absolution  ?  The  priests  were  getting  vexed  with  us,  and  we 
were  getting  vexed  with  the  priests.  The  most  amusing  stories 
were  afloat  of  how  simple  country  boys  argued  with  their  clergy 
on  the  subject  of  fighting  for  Ireland.  A  pastor  one  day  told  his 
penitent  that  the  society  was  illegal,  when  the  penitent  softened 
his  confessor's  heart  to  give  him  absolution  by  exclaiming:  "  Yerra, 
father,  what  do  I  care  about  their  illegal  ?  I  care  more  about  my 
sowl." 

In  July,  1858,  there  was  a  Jubilee  in  our  place.  The  young 
men  were  going  to  their  duty,  and  the  priests  were  discharging 
their  duty  in  sending  them  away  without  the  Sacraments.  I  found 
myself  some  twelve  miles  from  home  one  day,  and  meeting  a  priest, 
who  knew  me,  he  asked  : 

"  Jerry,  did  you  do  the  Jubilee  yet  ?" 

"  No,  Father,"  said  I,  "  there's  no  Jubilee  for  me  ;  I'm  outside 
the  pale  of  the  Church." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  said  he. 

I  told  him,  and  he  replied  : 

"  Ah,  that's  no  sin.  I'll  be  in  Skibbereen  on  Saturday,  assisting 
the  other  priests  ;  come  to  me,  and  we'll  have  no  difficulty  about 
the  matter." 

I  did  go  to  him,  and  he  was  as  good  as  his  word.  The  Skib- 
bereen priests  and  the  Skibbereen  bishop  were  still  persistent  in 
opposing  us,  and  I  determined  to  have  a  talk  with  his  lordship, 
whom  newspapers  love  to  style  the  patriotic  Bishop  of  Ross. 

I  went  to  confession  to  him  and  told  my  sins,  after  which  he 
asked  me  if  I  belonged  to  an  oath- bound  society,  and  I  said  I  did. 

"Then,"  said  he,  "  I  can't  give  absolution." 

"  Oh,  my  lord,"  said  I,  "  I  don't  seek  absolution  for  that ;  I  was 
at  confession  since  I  joined  the  society  and  got  absolution  ;  the 
priest  told  me  that  such  a  thing  was  no  sin." 

"It  was  a  sin,"  said  he,  "and  that  priest  participated  in  it; 
and  go  away  from  me  and  don't  come  any  more." 

I  went  away,  but  that  day  week  I  went  to  him  again,  and,  as  I 
knelt  down  in  the  confessional,  the  first  words  he  said  were  : 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  come  any  more  to  me  ?" 

"  My  lord,"  said  I,  "  it  is  not  to  you  I  come  but  to  the  confes- 
sional. I  came  here  to  confess  my  sins  to  God,  through  you  ;  and 
you  cannot  refuse  to  hear  me." 

"  You  should  have  more  humility  in  the  confessional,"  he  replied. 

To  make  a  long  story  short  we  got  talking  on  the  political 
question.  I  remarked  that  Dr.  Doyle  said,  that  if  a  rebellion  raged 
from  Malin  Head  to  Cape  Clear,  no  priest  would  fulminate  a  decree 


14  (J  Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life. 

of  excommunication  against  any  one  engaged  in  it ;  when  the 
bishop  hastily  said — 

"  Ah,  I  know  more  about  Dr.  Doyle  than  you  do  ;  and  go  on 
with  your  confession." 

I  did  as  he  directed,  and  we  parted  amicably.  He  told  me  to 
come  again  to  him  in  a  week,  but  I  was  in  Cork  jail  before  the  week 
elapsed.  The  bishop  was  true  about  Dr.  Doyle,  for  I  read  his  life, 
by  Fitzpatrick,  in  prison,  and  if  I  had  read  it  before  I  would  not 
quote  the  great  doctor  in  defence  of  oath-bound  societies,  or  of  any 
societies  aiming  at  the  destruction  of  British  rule  in  Ireland. 

Some  of  the  priests  took  occasion  to  denounce  our  work  from 
the  altars,  too.  I  was  at  Mass  that  Sunday,  at  the  end  of  Oc- 
tober or  the  beginning  of  November,  when  the  Gospel  of  the  day 
contains  a  recommendation  to  give  to  Caesar  what  is  due  to  Caesar, 
and  Father  Beausang  laid  hold  of  it  to  show  that  we  should  give 
tribute  to  England,  and  denounced  the  wicked  men  who  were  in 
his  parish  administering  oaths  for  the  purpose  of  doing  work  in 
opposition  to  the  text.  I  have  ever  considered,  and  will  ever  con- 
sider, this  preaching  a  perversion  of  the  text.  "Give  to  Caesar 
what  is  due  to  Caesar"  was  said  to  confound  those  who  were  devis- 
ing schemes  to  accuse  Christ  of  some  offence.  The  coin  that  was 
shown  Christ  did  not  belong  to  Caesar,  and  it  was  not  given  to 
Caesar,  whose  image  was  on  it,  but  to  the  man  from  whom  it  was 
received.  If  Dr.  Anderson  was  charged  to-morrow  as  a  man  of 
doubtful  loyalty,  if  he  was  asked  if  it  were  lawful  to  pay  tribute  to 
Victoria,  and  if  he  asked  a  coin  of  the  realm  and  made  use  of  simi- 
lar words  as  the  Bible  contains,  he  would  not  give  or  send  the  coin 
to  Victoria,  but  to  the  person  who  showed  it  to  him.  If  the  British 
flag  floats  in  Ireland,  and  if  the  impress  of  British  dominion  is  on 
the  land,  nevertheless  it  is  not  English  nor  England's  by  right  ;  it 
is  Irish  and  belongs  to  the  Irish,  and  it  will  be  theirs  yet  if  they 
act  like  men  and  repudiate  the  political  teachings  that  would  edu- 
cate them  as  slaves. 

England's  police  system  in  Ireland  is  one  vast  spy  system.  More 
than  half  of  these  police  are  Catholics,  and  some  of  them  have  to 
attend  every  Mass  in  every  chapel  on  Sundays.  The  priest  speaks 
of  a  secret  oath-bound  society  to  his  parishioners  ;  the  policeman 
goes  to  his  barrack,  and  his  first  duty  is  to  make  a  report  of  what 
the  priest  said  and  send  it  off  to  Dublin  Castle.  I  may  safely  say 
that  it  was  through  this  channel  that  the  authorities  had  any  cer- 
tainty of  the  spread  of  revolutionary  work.  Then  the  newspapers 
took  up  the  cry;  and,  in  accord  with  the  newspapers  giving  what 
information  they  could  glean  by  exchanging  confidences  with  friends 
and  by  all  other  means,  some  priests  were  giving  private  informa- 
tion to  the  Cast]/ . 

I  have  in  my  possession  evidence  to  convince  any  one  that  one 
priest  gave  information,  and  I  will  give  that  evidence.  I  am  not 
going  to  tell  how  we  got  possession  of  it ;  that  can  only  be  told 


O  Donovan  Bossas  Prison  Life.  15 

•when  the  secret  workings  of  our  machinery  can  be  made  known. 
I  know  the  correspondence  is  genuine.  I  know  how  it  came 
into  our  possession.  I  know  that  this  priest  who  wrote  it  was 
not  condemned  by  his  bishop  for  doing  so  ;  but  that  will  not 
be  wondered  at  when  it  is  known  that  hislordship  is  the  charitable 
Kerry  gentleman  who  said,  "that  hell  was  not  hot  enough  nor 
eternity  long  enough  for  those  Irishmen"  who  were  giving  so  much 
trouble  to  England. 

Father  O'Sullivan,  of  Kenmare,  does  not  deny  this  correspond- 
ence ;  indeed,  I  believe  he  justifies  it.  I,  a  few  weeks  ago,  saw 
communications  between  him  and  the  editor  of  the  Dublin  Nation 
on  the  subject  of  giving  first  information.  The  priest  was,  I  think, 
first  in  private,  but  the  paper  was  first  in  public.  Both,  no  doubt, 
satisfied  themselves  that  they  were  doing  the  best  thing  they  could 
do,  but  I  blamed  the  layman  more  than  the  priest,  fur  something 
more  was  expected  from  him.  He  professed  himself  a  fighting 
man  for  Ireland  if  there  were  fighting  means.  We  were  trying  to 
organize  the  means,  and  we  thought  he  should  not  be  the  man  to 
come  forward  and  expose  us.  If  his  house  was  on  fire,  and  if  his 
friends  rushed  into  clanger  to  save  his  furniture  or  his  family,  he 
should  not  be  the  first  to  pitch  stones  at  them  and  knock  them  off 
the  walls.  He  considered  the  movement  would  destroy  or  involve 
Ireland  more  than  it  would  redeem  it,  and  he  must  have  liberty  of 
opinion.  I  considered,  and  still  consider,  that  Ireland  will  never 
be  free  from  English  rule  unless  by  a  secret  oath-bound  conspiracy 
in  the  British  Islands,  but  a  more  unscrupulous  one  than  the  one 
we  had.  Here  is  the  priest's  correspondence,  and  a  pretty  piece 
of  business  it  is  : 

"Kenmare,  October  5,  1858. 

"  My  Lord — Having  discovered  in  the  latter  end  of  the  week 
that  an  extensive  conspiracy  was  being  organized  in  this  parish, 
and  was  imported  from  Bantry  and  Skibbereen,  I  deemed  it  my 
duty  at  both  Masses  on  Sunday  to  denounce,  in  the  strongest  lan- 
guage, the  wickedness  and  immorality  of  such  a  system,  and  its 
evil  consequences  to  society.  Before  evening  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  coming  at  a  good  deal  of  the  workings  of  the  system,  and  even 
got  copies  of  the  oaths,  which  I  send  at  the  other  side  for  the  in- 
formation of  the  Government. 

"  I  was  led  to  believe  that  700  or  800  persons  had  been  enrolled 
here,  and  some  3,000  in  Skibbereen  :  the  former  I  know  to  be  a 
gross  exaggeration,  and  I  suppose  the  latter  equally  so.  Before  I 
come  out  on  these  deluded  young  men — the  names  of  some  of  whom  I 
have — I  advised  the  magistrates  of  the  facts,  and  they,  too,  have 
probably  advised  with  your  lordship. — I  have  the  honor  to  be,  &c, 

"John  O'Sullivan. 
"Right  Hon.  Lord  Naas,  M.P." 


16  O  Donovan  BosscCs  Prison  Life. 

"  Kenmare,  December  11,  1858. 

"  My  Lord — Since  I  forwarded  to  you  copies  of  the  oaths  that 
were  being  administered  by  the  misguided  young  men,  some  ten 
or  a  dozen  of  whom  were  arrested  here  yesterday,  I  beg  to  assure 
you  that  I  lost  no  opportunity  of  denouncing,  both  in  public  and 
private,  the  folly  and  the  wickedness  of  their  proceedings. 

"  Nay,  more,  I  refused  to  hear  the  confession  or  to  admit  to 
communion  any  one  person  who  had  joined  the  society  until  they 
should  come  to  me,  'extra  tribunal,'  as  we  technically  term  it;  and 
there,  not  only  promise  to  disconnect  themselves  from  the  society, 
but  also  give  the  names  of  every  person  they  knew  to  be  a  member. 
It  was  rather  difficult  to  accomplish  the  latter,  but  I  did  ;  and 
having  thus  come  at  the  names  of  these  deluded  young  men,  I, 
either  with  their  parents  or  with  themselves,  showed  them  the  in- 
sanity of  the  course  they  had  been  following.  Almost  every  one 
of  those  now  under  arrest  have  been  last  week  at  their  Christmas 
confession  and  communion;  and,  though  it  maybe  no  legal  evidence 
of  their  being  innocent,  to  any  one  acquainted  with  the  practice  and 
discipline  of  our  Church,  it  is  prima  facie  evidence  of  their  having 
solemnly  pledged  themselves  to  disconnect  themselves  from  the 
society. 

"  I  beg  to  assure  your  lordship  that  since  the  3rd  of  October — 
the  Sunday  on  which  I  first  denounced  this  society — not  even  one 
single  person  has  joined  it ;  and,  had  the  thing  taken  root  or  pro- 
gressed, I  would  have  been  as  ready  to  advise  you  of  its  progress 
as  I  was  of  its  existence.  So  completely  extinct  has  it  been  that 
more  than  once  I  proposed  writing  to  you  to  remove  the  extra 
police  force,  seeing  them  perfectly  unnecessary. 

"  Under  such  circumstances,  I  make  bold  to  ask  your  lordship 
to  interfere  with  his  Excellency  for  the  liberation  of  these  foolish 
boys — for  boys  they  are.  They  have  got  a  proper  fright,  and  I 
make  no  doubt  that  an  act  of  well  timed  clemency  will  have  more 
effect  in  rendering  them  dutiful  subjects  hereafter  than  would  the 
measure  of  the  justice  they  certainly  deserve. 

"  If  they  be  treated  with  kindness  they  will  be  thankful  and 
grateful,  and  doubly  so  if  the  thing  be  done  at  once,  and  in  a 
friendly  and  fatherly  spirit;  but  carry  out  the  law,  and  you  will,  of 
course,  vindicate  it,  but  you  certainly  will  have  confirmed  a  set  of 
young  rebels  in  their  hostility  to  her  Majesty's  Government. — I 
have  the  honor,  &c, 

"  John  O'Sulliva*. 

"  Right  Honorable  Lord  Naas,  M.P." 

The  next  letter  is  to  a  school-fellow  of  his,  who  was  partner  to 
Sir  Matthew  Barrington,  the  Crown  prosecutor.  Mind  how  he 
talks  of  the    'brats"; 


>  0' Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life.  17 

"  Kenmare,  December  16,  1858. 

"  My  Dear  Pat— It  never  occurred  to  me  that  the  prosecution  of 
these  young  men  here  would  come  before  you  so  soon ;  so  I  was 
waiting  the  approach  of  the  Assizes  to  put  before  you  the  part  I 
took  in  it.  The  moment  I  got  hold  of  the  existence  of  such  a 
foolish  conspiracy  here  I  advised  the  magistrates  of  it,  who  could 
scarcely  believe  me. 

"  I  denounced  it  at  both  Masses  on  the  3rd  of  October,  and  such 
a  surprise  was  it  on  the  congregation  that  they  most  unanimously 
voted  me  either  mad  or  seeking  to  work  upon  the  fears  of  Trench, 
who  is  still  going  to  all  and  most  unworthy  lengths  in  opposing 
the  convent. 

"Immediately  after  denouncing,  a  party  came  and  gave  me 
copies  of  the  two  oaths  I  enclose  you.  I  dreaded  him,  and  to  save 
myself  I  mentioned  the  facts  to  the  magistrates.  Trench  at  once 
sent  to  me  for  a  copy,  and,  feeling  he  only  wanted  to  make  a  call 
at  the  Castle,  I  was  inclined  not  to  give  it ;  but  then,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  feared  to  withhold  it,  as  he  would  be  but  too  glad  to  have 
so  much  to  tell  Lord  Lansdowne  and  the  Government. 

"  The  two  Simpsons  dined  with  me  the  same  evening,  and 
Richard  advised  me  to  send  a  copy  to  Lord  Naas  by  next  post,  but 
to  withhold  the  copy  for  Trench  until  the  post  after,  and  then  let 
Trench  make  a  fool  of  himself  by  sending  up  his  "Eureka"  to  the 
Government.  I  did  that,  and  see  Lord  Naas's  reply.  On  the  arrest 
of  these  young  men  I  wrote  to  him  a  letter,  a  copy  of  which  I  send 
you,  and  if  he  has  sense  he  will  take  my  advice.  Let  him  prosecute 
these  lads,  and  the  excitement  that  will  follow  will  have  no  bounds. 
The  people  are  already  talking  of  giving  them  a  public  entry — of 
raising  a  subscription  to  defend  them,  and  thus  the  excitement  will 
be  tremendous;  whereas,  if  the  brats  be  sent  home  at  once,  all  this 
will  be  anticipated.  I  beg  of  you  to  do  what  you  can  to  carry  out 
this  view  of  it.  The  Government  may  be  quite  satisfied  that,  since 
the  3rd  of  October,  there  has  been  a  complete  stop  to  it  here;  and 
if  any  of  the  unfortunate  boys  have  moved  in  it  since,  I  am  not  to 
be  understood  as  having  the  slightest  pity  or  feeling  for  them.  Say, 
if  you  please,  what  we  ought  to  do;  and  do  what  you  can  for  these 
poor,  deluded  boys.  Would  you  advise  me  to  write  to  Sir  Charles 
Trevelyan,  or  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  or  would  you  advise  a  public 
meeting  and  a  memorial  here  ? — My  dear  Pat,  &c, 

"John  O'Sullivan. 

"P.  D.  Jeffers,  Esq." 

"Kenmare,  December  17,  1858. 
"  Dear  Sir  Matthew — I  wrote  to  Pat  Jeffers  yesterday,  and  im- 
mediately after  heard  from  Mr.  Davis;  he  was  on  his  way  to  meet 
you.  Had  I  known  so  much  I  would  have  reserved  my  letter  to 
Pat  for  you.  About  the  1st  of  October  I  had  the  first  intimation  of 
the  movement  of  these  blockheads.     I  denounced  it  at  both  Masses 


18  O  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

on  the  3rd,  and  before  the  evening  of  that  day  I  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  getting  copies  of  the  oaths,  which  I  at  once  forwarded  to 
Lord  Naas,  and  for  which  I  have  his  thanks. 

"  I  would  stake  my  existence  that  from  thenceforward  not  a 
single  individual  joined  the  society.  I  send  you  a  copy  of  the  letter 
I  wrote  to  Lord  Naas  upon  the  arrest  of  these  young  lads,  as  con- 
veying what  I  would  impress  upon  you  now  ;  and  I  will  only  add 
to  it  that  the  less  you  make  of  the  whole  matter  the  more  you  will 
contribute  to  the  peace  of  the  country  in  general.  Require  heavy 
bail  from  them,  and  that  bail  they  will  get ;  but  then  you  will  ele- 
vate a  pack  of  silly  boys  to  be  great  patriots,  and  attach  a  signifi- 
cance and  importance  to  the  whole  matter  it  really  does  not  deserve. 
Great  sympathy  for  the  young  chaps  exists  here  by  reason  of  their 
youth ;  and  if  you  go  to  any  extremities  with  them,  it  will  not  only 
give  great  dissatisfaction  to  the  people,  but  it  will  confirm  the  young 
fellows  in  their  hostility  to  the  Government,  whether  they  be  guilty 
or  not.  I  beg  of  you,  therefore,  as  you  value  the  peace  and  welfare 
of  the  country,  to  let  them  out,  either  upon  their  own  recognizances 
or  upon  very  moderate  bail,  and  you  will  find  it  to  be  the  most 
effectual  stop  to  this  very  silly  movement. — I  am,  dear  Sir  Matthew, 
&c,  "  John  O'Sullivan. 

"  Sir  Matthew  Barrington,  Bart.,  Tralee." 

"  Kenmare,  December  26,  1858. 

"  Mr  Lord — Now  that  an  investigation  has  been  had  as  to  the 
nature  and  extent  of  the  Phcenix  Society,  I  venture  to  call  your  atten- 
tion to  a  letter  I  took  the  liberty  of  writing  to  you  on  this  day  fort- 
night. I  have  just  read  the  evidence  of  the  approver  Sullivan  in 
the  Cork  Examiner,  and  he  states  *  he  had  been  at  confession  with 
me,  and  that  I  advised  him  to  break  the  oaths.'  The  man  never 
confessed  to  me.  I  never  exchanged  a  word  with  him.  He  is  not  a 
parishioner  of  mine  at  all!  If  all  his  evidence  be  as  true  as  this 
much  it  is  of  little  value. 

"  Looking,  therefore,  at  the  unsupported  evidence  of  this  fellow, 
at  the  youth  of  the  lads  led  astray  by  him,  and,  above  all,  at  the 
fact  of  the  society  having  been  completely  extinguished  since  I  first 
denounced  it  on  the  3rd  of  October,  I  venture  again  to  ask  your 
lordship  to  interfere  with  his  Excellency  tor  a  free  pardon  for  these 
foolish  parishioners  of  mine.  It  will  be  the  most  perfect  extin- 
guisher he  can  possibly  put  on  it. 

"  If  you  call  them  up  for  trial  a  large  subscription  will  be  made 
up  to  defend  them;  for  their  youth,  with  the  innumerable  perjuries 
of  the  approver,  has  created  much  sympathy  for  them,  and  great 
excitement  will  be  kept  up  here  until  the  assizes.  If  they  shall  be 
acquitted  a  regular  ovation  will  be  the  consequence,  while  a  con- 
viction cannot  entail  a  very  heavy  sentence  on  such  striplings.  If 
his  Excellency  will  graciously  grant  them  a  free  pardon  he  will  at- 
tach them  faithful  and  beholden  to  her  Majesty,  and  we  shall  hear 


O Donovan  Rosso! s  Prison  Life.  19 

no  more  of  this  absurd,  wicked,  and  foolish  society.  I  am  quite 
sure,  also,  that  you  must  be  aware  that  it  was  my  active  interference 
suppressed  the  society  so  immediately  here;  and,  though  I  incurred 
much  odium  in  the  beginning,  all  parties  now  admit  I  was  their 
best  friend.  This,  I  think,  entitles  me  to  some  consideration  on 
your  part;  and  be  assured  that,  if  I  had  the  slightest  reason  to  think 
that  a  prosecution  would  tend  more  to  the  preservation  of  the  peace 
and  the  dignity  of  the  constitution  than  what  I  ask  now,  I  would 
be  the  foremost  in  recommending  it.  I  therefore  confidently  ask 
for  a  free  pardon  for  the  ivhole  of  my  poor,  deluded  parishioners  ; 
because,  if  the  thing  be  done  at  all,  it  ought  to  be  done  in  a  free  and 
generous  spirit,  making  no  distinctions  or  exceptions,  because  with- 
out pronouncing  on  the  guilt  or  the  innocence  of  any  of  the  parties, 
I  am  perfectly  satisfied  and  convinced  not  one  of  them  had  the 
slightest  connection  with  the  society  from  the  day  I  first  denounced 
it. — I  have  the  honor,  &c, 

"John  O'Sullivan. 
"The  Eight  Hon.  Lord  Naas,  M.R" 

This  information,  or  this  oath,  which  the  priest  sent  to  Dublin 
Castle,  was  obtained  under  the  following  circumstances  :  A  young 
man  went  to  confession  to  the  Eev.  Mr.  O'Sullivan,  and  the  priest 
ascertaining  that  his  penitent  belonged  to  the  society,  asked  him 
out  into  the  chapel  yard,  where  he  questioned  him  again,  and  ex- 
tracted from  him  a  copy  of  the  oath.  This  was — to  use  the  words  of 
the  priest — getting  the  information  extra  tribunal ;  but  I  doubt  that 
there  are  many  priests  or  laymen  who  will  approve  of  the  use  made 
of  what  was  so  obtained. 

When  the  Castle  authorities  got  the  first  information  in  October 
they  set  to  work  to  get  an  informer,  and  they  succeeded  in  getting 
one  in  Kenmare.  They  sent  him  to  Skibbereen  in  order  that  he 
might  be  able  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  some  men  there,  and 
swear  against  them.  We,  in  Skibbereen,  knew  he  was  coming  to 
see  us,  and  the  friends  in  Kerry  told  us  to  be  cautious  of  him,  that 
he  was  a  suspected  individual,  and  got  into  the  society  by  one  who 
did  not  know  him  well.  This  informer  went  once  to  a  fair  in  Bantry, 
some  20  miles  from  home ;  he  was  sworn  in  Bantry,  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  his  neighbors,  who  would  never  have  trusted  him  so 
far,  but  now  that  he  was  in,  they  had  to  make  the  best  of  it.  When 
he  came  to  Skibbereen  a  number  of  our  young  men  went  to  see  him 
through  curiosity — all  to  pass  an  opinion  as  to  his  honesty  or  per- 
fidy— and  he  swore  informations  against  every  one  to  whom  he  got 
introduced.  But  all  he  swore  was  false,  and  his  employers  knew 
it.  They  will  never  scruple  to  carry  out  their  ends  by  falsehood, 
and  here  we  are  not  able  to  meet  them.  They  did  not  care  how 
they  got  us  to  prison  so  they  had  us  there.  They  knew  that  they 
could  then  have  the  better  of  us.  They  worked  hard  to  get  crimi- 
natory evidence  against  us  and  failed,  hence  our  release  without 
trial  after  eight  months. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


h  glance  oyer  slx  years eviction fidelity  of  the  people— ' 

"Shoneen"  Snobbery — The  Patriotic  Bishop  O'Hea — Rifles  and 
Pikes — English  Hypocrisy — Surrender — Polish  Demonstration 
and  Prince  of  Wales'  Illumination — Tearing  Down  the  English 
Flag  where  there  was  not  much  Danger  in  the  Way — Threats — 
The  "Irish  People"  Newspaper  Denunciations — Calumnies — A 
Hard  Job  for  any  of  the  "  Eratres  Eeniores"  to  Get  Married — 
No  Absolution — Father  Leader  and  his  Gross  Insult,  which 
ended  in  Marriage. 

My  release  from  one  prison  in  1859  until  my  re-entrance  into 
another  in  1865  runs  over  a  period  of  six  years — full  of  incident  and 
adventure  sufficient  to  make  a  book  in  itself. 

It  will  not  do  to  make  one  book  within  another.  I  can  make  a 
second  one,  if,  after  reading  the  first,  my  readers  judge  that  I  am 
any  hand  at  all  at  book-making,  so  I  will  devote  no  more  than  one 
chapter  now  to  my  knowledge  of  the  movement  during  the  half- 
dozen  years  I  speak  of. 

While  I  was  in  prison  landlordism  played  some  pranks  with  my 
family.  The  ownership  of  my  residence  and  place  of  business  was 
disputed  by  two  parties  ;  the  man  from  whom  I  had  the  house 
rented  lost  the  lawsuit,  and  the  other,  getting  a  court  order  to  take 
immediate  possession,  ejected  my  family;  and  when  I  came  out  of 
prison  I  found  the  old  house  at  home  gone,  and  the  inmates  in  a 
strange  one.  My  business  was  suspended,  and  I  set  to  work  to  put 
the  wheels  in  motion  again,  but  it  was  a  difficult  job  to  bring  as 
much  water  to  my  mill  as  it  had  before.  Then,  landlords  them- 
selves and  rich  people  traded  with  me;  now,  the  poor  people 
and  the  peasantry  alone  stuck  to  me.  It  is  believed  that  the  lower 
you  descend  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth  the  hotter  you  will  find 
it;  and  it  is  said,  side  by  side  with  this,  that  the  lower  you  go 
amongst  an  oppressed  people  the  warmer  you  will  find  them,  the 
truer  and  the  more  ready  to  make  sacrifices  for  freedom,  friend  or 
fatheland. 

I  believe  this  to  be  true.  I  know  the  Irish  people  now,  at  least 
in  Ireland,  for  it  is  not  so  easy  to  know  them  in  America;  and  I 
would  trust  my  life  in  anything  for  Ireland  to  the  poorest  of  them 
sooner  than  I  would  to  the  richest.  I  travelled  England,  Ireland 
and  Scotland  in  connection  with  the  revolutionary  movement;  I 


(J Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  21 

met  the  poorest  of  our  people  in  the  small  villages  and  in  the  large 
cities;  I  whispered  "  treason"  and  "rebellion"  to  them  night  after 
night  for  years.  I  was  three  months  awaiting  trial  in  Dublin 
prisons;  any  amount  of  money  would  have  been  given  to  any  one 
who  would  come  forward  to  swear  that  I  was  seen  in  such  and 
such  a  place  on  such  an  occasion,  and  though  I  could  count  by 
thousands  the  numble  people  I  had  met,  not  one  of  them  came 
forward  to  take  the  English  bribe.  I  would  not  run  the  same 
gauntlet  amongst  the  rich.  How  often  have  I  been  told  by  some 
of  my  well-to-do  friends,  who  knew  what  1  was  at,  that  I  would 
find  these  people  selling  me;  and  how  often  have  I  contemned  their 
vaticinations.  How  often  have  I  told  them  that  it  would  be  well 
for  them  if  they  were  willing  to  do  as  much  for  Ireland  as  the  men 
they  were  despising;  and  how  often  to  the  sneering  expression  of 
"what  have  they  to  lose?"  have  I  replied,  "they  have  their  lives, 
which  are  dearer  than  anything  you  could  lose." 

But  then  "it  was  not  respectable  !"  but  why  did  not  the  "respec- 
table people  commence  it,  or  come  into  it,  and  make  it  respectable? 
It  is  the  very  same  thing  to-day  in  the  city  of  New  York.  The  "re- 
spectables" won't  do  anything  with  the  "  ragamuffins"  who  are  will- 
ing to  do  something  for  Ireland,  but  they  have  no  objection  in  the 
world  to  shake  hands  and  make  high-fellow-well-met  with  them — 
nay,  to  condescend  to  fling  them  a  few  bones  when  fat  meat  is  wanted 
for  our  more  respectable  cousins,  and  when  the  poor  man's  vote  will 
help  to  get  it.  This  fat  meat  idea  came  into  my  head  while  think- 
ing that  it  may  be  time  for  me,  as  the  French  say,  to  return  to  my 
mutton. 

I  recommenced  my  pursuits,  political  and  commercial,  a  few 
months  after  my  release  from  prison,  and  I  found  it  much  more 
difficult  to  be  successful  in  the  legal  than  in  the  illegal  one.  To 
transact  the  political  business  I  could  meet  the  people  anywhere, 
but  to  do  the  commercial  matters  the  people  had  to  come  to  my 
house,  which  many  were  afraid  to  do  for  a  time,  in  the  fear  that 
their  landlords  would  be  down  on  them  for  having  any  association 
with  such  a  desperate  character;  for,  of  course,  the  stock-in-trade  lies 
were  told  of  us,  that  we  were  going  to  massacre  landlords,  and 
overturn  altars.  And  some  of  the  ministers  of  the  altars  did  their 
parts  too,  if  it  is  proper  to  think  so  from  the  fact  of  the  "  patriotic' 
Bishop  O'Hea's  challenging  a  man  and  his  wife  in  the  confessional 
for  frequenting  my  house.  The  man  told  me  that  he  was  chal- 
lenged, and  told  me  that  his  wife  told  him  that  she  was  challenged. 
They  both  live  still;  I  am  not  going  to  tell  their  names.  I  did  not 
hear  that  any  others  were  put  through  a  similiar  operation,  but  I 
suppose  there  were  others.  It  is  well  for  a  man  to  suffer  for  his 
sins  in  this  world  ;  better  than  in  the  next.  I  might  have  been  a 
greater  sinner  than  the  ordinary  run  of  mortals  around;  I  know  I 
am  not  a  lesser  one;  but  certainly  I  did  not  show  much  more 
scandal  than  many   others  who  had  not  the  ire  of  the  Church  on 


22  O Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life. 

them.  Perhaps  it  is  a  very  great  crime  to  teach  the  people  to  be 
independent  of  priests  in  politics  ;  this  I  did  do,  and  this  I  will 
do  as  long  as  the  priests  oppose  any  organization  of  means  to  rid 
Ireland  of  English  rule,  and  I  believe  no  organization  will  do  it  that 
will  not  be  oath-bound  and  secret  in  and  about  Ireland,  and  that  will 
not  avail  of  all  and  every  means  that  is  deemed  necessary  to  attain 
the  object. 

One  branch  of  my  business  was  the  spirit  trade,  or  as  I  am  writ- 
ing in  America,  the  liquor  trade.  Licenses  for  this  are  renewed 
every  year,  and  at  each  renewal  the  police  came  forward  to  have 
mine  annulled.  They  put  me  to  trouble,  expense  and  annoyance. 
I  always  apjiealed  to  a  superior  court,  and  as  no  charge  of  keeping 
an  irregular  house  could  be  urged  against  me  I  came  away  with  my 
license. 

The  authorities  had  frightened  the  simple  portion  of  the  com- 
munity by  our  arrest,  and  I  found  the  people  under  the  impression 
that  if  any  kind  of  military  weapon  was  found  with  them  they 
would  be  sent  to  jail.  It  was  hard  to  disabuse  them  of  this,  and  I 
took  a  practical  method  of  doing  it. 

I  was  in  possession  of  an  Enfield  rifle  and  bayonet,  a  sword  and 
an  old  Croppy  pike,  with  a  hook  and  hatchet  on  it,  formidable  enough 
to  frighten  any  coward,  and  these  I  hung  up  in  a  conspicuous 
part  of  my  store;  yet  this  would  not  even  satisfy  some  that  I 
could  keep  these  articles  with  impunity,  and  I  had  many  a  wise 
head  giving  me  advice.  But  when  I  have  satisfied  myself 
that  a  thing  is  right,  and  that  I  make  up  my  mind  to  do  it, 
I  can  listen  very  attentively  to  those  who,  hi  kindness,  would  advise 
me  for  the  purpose  of  dissuading  me  from  a  course  inimical,  per- 
haps, to  my  own  interests,  while  at  the  same  same  time  I  can  be 
firm  in  my  resolve  to  go  on  as  soon  as  my  adviser  is  gone.  The 
arms  remained  in  their  place,  and  on  fair- days  and  market-days  it 
was  amusing  to  see  young  peasants  bringing  in  their  companions 
to  see  the  sight.  "Fheagh  !  fheagh  !  Look  !  look  !  "  would  be  the 
first  exclamation  on  entering  the  shop;  and  never  did  artist  survey 
a  work  of  art  more  composedly  than  would  some  of  those  boys, 
leaning  on  their  elbows  over  the  counter,  admire  the  treasured  wea- 
pons they  longed  to  use  one  day  in  defence  of  the  cause  of  their 
fatherland. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  years  the  people  were  fully  persuaded  that 
they  could  keep  arms  in  defiance  of  the  police.  It  would  answei 
the  ends  of  government  very  well,  if  the  authorities  by  keeping  the 
people  scared,  could  keep  them  unarmed  without  the  passing  of 
arms  acts  and  other  repressive  measures,  that  look  so  very  ugly  to 
the  world.  If  England  could  keep  her  face  clean — if  she  could 
carry  the  phylacteries — if  she  could  have  the  Bible  on  her  lips  and 
the  devil  in  her  deeds,  without  any  of  the  devil's  work  being  seen, 
she  would  be  hi  her  glory. 

My  pikes  were  doing  great  mischief  in  the  community  it  seems, 


C  Donovan  Rossofs  Prison  Life.  23 

and  rumors  were  going  around  that  others  were  getting  pikes,  too. 
Tim  Duggan,  whom  I  spoke  of  as  being  in  Cork  jail,  was  employed 
in  my  shop.  Tim  should  be  always  at  some  mischief,  and,  taking 
down  the  pikes  one  day  to  take  some  of  the  rust  off  them,  no  place 
would  satisfy  him  to  sit  burnishing  them  but  outside  the  door.  This 
he  did  to  annoy  a  very  officious  sergeant  of  police,  named  Brosnahan, 
who  was  on  duty  outside  the  store.  Next  day  I  was  sent  for  by 
my  friend  McCarthy  Downing,  who  was  Chairman  of  the  Town  Com- 
missioners, and  magistrate  of  the  town.  lie  told  me  that  the  magis- 
trates were  after  having  a  meeting,  and  had  a  long  talk  about  what 
occurred  the  day  before.  Brosnahan  represented  that  not  alone  was 
Tim  Duggan  cleaning  the  pikes,  but  showing  the  people  how  they 
could  be  used  with  effect — what  beautiful  things  they  were  to  frighten 
exterminating  landlords  and  all  other  tools  of  tyranny.  Mr.  Downing 
asked  me  would  I  deliver  up  the  arms,  and  I  said  certainly  not. 
He  said  the  magistrates  were  about  to  make  a  report  to  the  Castle  of 
the  matter.  I  said  I  did  not  care  what  reports  they  made;  the  law 
allowed  me  to  hold  such  things,  and  hold  them  I  would  until  the 
district  was  proclaimed. 

"Now,"  added  he,  "for  peace  sake,  I  ask  you  as  a  personal  favor 
to  give  them  up  to  me,  I  will  keep  them  for  you  in  my  own  house, 
and  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  when  you  want  them  I  will  give 
them  to  you." 

"  Well"  replied  I,  "  as  you  make  so  serious  a  matter  of  it  you 
can  have  them." 

I  went  home,  I  put  my  pike  on  my  shoulder,  and  gave  another 
to  "William  (Croppy)  McCarthy.  It  was  a  market  day,  and  both  of 
us  walked  through  the  town  and  showed  the  people  we  could  cany 
arms,  so  that  we  made  the  act  of  surrender  as  glorious  as  possible 
to  our  cause,  and  as  disagreeable  as  it  could  be  to  the  stipendiaries 
of  England. 

These  are  small  things  to  chronicle  but  it  is  in  small  things  that 
the  enemy  shows  a  very  wary  diligence  to  crush  us.  Inch  by  inch 
she  pursues  us,  and  no  spark  of  manhood  appears  anywhere  in  the 
land  that  she  has  not  recourse  to  her  petty  arts  to  extinguish  it. 

In  the  spring  of  1863,  the  Poles  were  struggling  against  their 
tyranny,  and  we  conceived  the  idea  of  having  a  meeting  of  sympathy 
for  them  in  Skibbereen,  and  carried  it  out.  We  prepared  torch- 
lights and  republican  banners,  and  we  issued  private  orders  to 
have  some  of  our  best  men  in  from  the  country.  The  authorities 
were  getting  alarmed,  and  they  issued  orders  to  have  a  large  force 
of  police  congregated  in.  the  town  on  the  appointed  night.  During 
the  day  the  "  peelers,"  as  I  may  inoffensively  call  them,  were  pour- 
ing in,  and  as  they  passed  by  the  several  roads  the  peasantry 
crowded  in  after  them.  The  rumor  went  around  that  we  were  to  be 
slaughtered,  and  men  from  the  country  came  in  to  see  the  fun. 
The  town  was  full  of  "  peelers  "  and  peasants,  and  to  have  another 
stroke  at  the  big  fellows  we  got  handbills  struck  off,  calling  upon 


24  O  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

the  people  not  to  say  an  offensive  word  to  any  of  the  police,  that 
they  were  Irishmen,  like  ourselves,  and  only  obliged  from  circum- 
stances to  appear  our  enemies.  We  posted  these  bills  and  employed 
boys  to  put  them  into  the  hands  of  the  police.  There  were  six 
magistrates  in  the  town,  and  the  stipendiary  one,  O'Connell —  a 
member  of  the  "  Liberator's  "  family — was  in  command  of  the 
forces.  They  thought  to  intimidate  us  from  carrying  out  the  pro- 
gramme of  our  procession,  and  we  felt  bound  to  maintain  the 
confidence  of  our  people  by  proceeding  according  to  our  announce- 
ment. They  recognized  in  our  meeting  of  sympathy  for  the  Poles 
a  meeting  of  organized  hostility  against  England  ;  they  knew  that 
bringing  the  masses  together  and  allowing  them  to  see  their  strength 
and  union  would  create  confidence,  and  that  is  what  they  wanted  to 
kill.  And,  to  be  candid,  it  was  necessary  for  us  to  humor  the  pecu- 
liarities of  our  people  some  way.  They  are  ever  ready  to  fight, 
ever  impatient  for  the  "  time,"  and  when  the  time  is  long  coming 
they  are  drooping  and  restless  without  stimulants. 

The  officers  of  arrangement  moved  from  the  committee-rooms. 
The  committee  were  armed  with  wands  and  marched  in  front, 
towards  the  place  where  the  vast  assembly  of  people  were  formed 
in  line  of  procession,  with  the  torches  in  their  hands. 

The  wives  of  the  police  and  the  police  themselves  had  been  sent 
to  the  mothers  of  some  of  the  young  men  on  the  committee,  telling 
them  that  the  police  had  orders  to  fire  on  us;  and  the  mothers  im- 
plored us,  on  their  knees,  to  give  up  our  project.  We  went  on;  and, 
as  we  proceeded  to  move,  the  magistrates  came  in  front  of  us,  with 
the  police  behind  them,  and  stopped  the  route  of  our  march.  The 
Castle  agent,  O'Connell,  addressing  himself  to  Brosnahan,  asked — 

"  Who  are  the  leaders  of  this  tumult  ?" 

And  the  police  sergeant  answered — 

"Here,  they  are,  sir;  Dan  M'Cartie,  Mortimer  Moynahan,  Jerry 
Crowly,  Con  Callaghan,  O'Donovan  Bossa,  James  O'Keeffe,  &c." 

O'Connell — "I  order  this  assembly  to  disperse." 

Committee — "  For  what  ?  " 

"  For  it  is  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  town." 

"  It  is  you  who  are  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  town.  We  are 
peaceful  citizens  met  here  to  demonstrate  our  sympathy  for  a  peo- 
ple struggling  against  tyranny.  Do  you  say  we  have  no  right  to  do 
so,  or  that  we  must  not  walk  the  streets  ?  " 

"  You  are  meeting  in  an  illegal  manner  ;  I  will  now  read  the 
Biot  Act,  and  if  you  do  not  disperse  before  fifteen  minutes  you  have 
only  to  take  the  consequence." 

He  read  the  Biot  Act  ;  after  which  we  asked — 

"  What  do  you  see  illegal  in  our  procession  ?  " 

"  That  red  flag,"  pointing  to  an  equilateral  triangle  banner. 

The  Committee — "Take  that  flag  down.  Now,  Mr.  O'Connell 
do  you  see  anything  else  illegal  ?" 

O'Connell — "  Those  transparencies  with  the  mottoes." 


O Donovan  Rossds Prison  Life.  25 

Committee — "Take  those  transparencies  away.  Do  you  see 
anything  else  illegal,  Mr.  O'Connell  ?  " 

"  Those  torchlights." 

Committee — "  Put  out  those  torchlights.  Do  you  see  anything 
else  illegal?" 

"You  had  better  disperse." 

Committee — "Do  you  tell  us,  now,  that  you  come  here  with 
your  authority  and  your  armed  force  to  tell  us  that  we  must  not 
walk  through  the  streets  of  Skibbereen  ?  " 

"I  do  not." 

The  committee  ordered  the  band  to  play  up  "  Grarryowen  "  and 
to  march  on.  The  boys  did  so  ;  the  magistrates  moved  aside  ;  the 
police  behind  them  opened  way,  and  the  procession  marched  twice 
through  the  streets,  and  ended  the  demonstration  with  the  reading 
of  an  address. 

The  marriage  of  the  Prince  of  "Wales  in  '63  came  on  in  a  few 
nights  after  we  had  the  Polish  sympathy  meeting  in  Skibbereen, 
and  some  of  the  loyal  people  of  the  town  illuminated  their  houses. 
There  was  a  public  news-room  in  the  Prince  of  Wales'  Hotel,  and 
as  the  loyalists  paid  the  proprietor  £1  for  lighting  the  house,  those 
of  them  who  belonged  to  the  news-room  held  a  private  meeting 
and  passed  a  resolution  that  the  windows  of  that  room  should  be 
illuminated  too.  So  they  were  ;  but  some  of  the  Committee  of  the 
Polish  procession  were  members  of  the  news-room,  and  when  they 
heard  that  it  was  burning  with  loyalty,  they  went  to  the  room, 
called  a  meeting,  pointed  to  one  of  the  rules  which  excluded  politics 
from  the  house,  and  denounced  those  who  held  a  hole-and-corner 
meeting  to  introduce  them  there  that  day.  A  crowd  was  outside 
the  hotel,  listening  to  the  fight  inside,  and  cheered  and  groaned  ac- 
cording as  the  several  speakers  spoke.  One  of  the  loyalists  said  it 
was  a  mob  meeting.  "  Then  we  may  as  well  have  mob  law,"  said 
I ;  and,  making  for  the  windows,  I  tore  down  the  transparencies, 
the  fil-dols  and  the  English  banners,  and  threw  them  into  the 
street. 

Some  one  may  ask  what  has  this  to  do  with  prison  life  ?  Well, 
not  much,  perhaps  ;  but  it  has  to  do  with  the  movement  for  which 
we  were  put  in  prison.  That  movement  generated  a  spirit  of 
manhood  in  the  land  which  the  enemy  could  not  crush,  and  cannot 
crush  if  we  do  not  prove  ourselves  dastards.  Acts  of  hostility, 
similiar  to  those  I  speak  of,  were  occuring  everywhere;  and,  if  the 
people  had  only  arms  to  back  their  spirit,  they  would  do  something 
worthy  of  them.  The  Gladstones  know  this,  and  use  all  their  in- 
genuity to  keep  the  dangerous  weapons  from  the  people,  lest — as 
one  of  them  said  lately — the  people  would  hurt  themselves.  But, 
"  beg,  borrow,  or  steal"  them,  we  must  have  arms  before  we  can 
have  our  own  again. 

After  those  occurrences  in  Skibbereen  the  stipendiary  of  the 
Castle,  O'Connell,  and  Potter  the  Inspector  of  Police,  came  to  me 


26  O  Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life. 

one  day  and  told  me  they  had  instructions  to  give  me  notice  that  if 
I  did  not  cease  from  disturbing  the  community  I  would  be  called 
up  for  sentence,  pursuant  to  the  conditions  of  my  plea  of  guilty. 
I  told  them  they  should  first  show  that  I  violated  any  of  those  con- 
ditions; that  they  should  prove  me  guilty  of  t\e  practices  of  drill- 
ing and  the  other  things  sworn  against  me  at  the  time  of  my  im- 
prisonment; and  that  while,  to  their  eyes,  I  was  acting  within  their 
own  law,  I  did  not  care  about  their  threats. 

Some  time  after  I  received  an  invitation  from  James  Stephens  to 
come  to  Dublin  and  act  as  manager  of  the  Irish  People  newspaper, 
which  was  about  to  be  started.  I  accepted  the  position,  and  we 
were  not  a  month  at  work  when  we  experienced  a  most  active  op- 
position to  the  sale  of  the  paper  from  some  of  the  priests.  As 
manager  of  the  business  department  I  can  safely  say  that  there  was 
not  a  county  in  Ireland  in  which  we  had  not  some  clergyman  de- 
nouncing our  principles.  I  travelled  the  whole  country  from  that 
little  lake  on  the  top  of  Fair  Head  in  the  north,  to  that  deep  pool 
that  sleeps  in  the  bosom  of  the  mountains  round  Loughine  in  the 
south  ;  from  the  Hill  of  Howth  in  the  east,  to  Croagh  Patrick  in  the 
west ;  and  north,  south,  east  and  west  we  had  some  one  to  assail  us 
as  enemies  of  our  race  and  name.  It  was  just  as  Michael  Doheny 
said  when  he  was  hunted: 

"  Thy  faith  was  tried,  alas!  and  those 

Who  periled  a'l  for  thee 
Were  cursed  and  branded  as  thy  foes, 

Acushla  gal  machree." 

Our  agents  were  bullied,  and  when  bullying  would  not  do,  were 
threatened  with  hell  and  damnation;  where  both  failed  the  trade  of 
the  man  was  threatened ;  and  I  know  one  district  in  Waterf ord 
where  a  priest  was  in  league  with  the  magistrates  to  refuse  spirit 
licenses  to  publicans  who  sold  the  Irish  People  newspaper  ;  and  the 
Centre  for  Kilkenny  told  me  that  the  penance  enjoined  in  con- 
fession on  some  of  his  circle  of  accqaintance  was  that  they  should 
not  read  the  Irish  People. 

Perhaps  some  of  those  priests  ought  not  to  be  blamed  for  de- 
nouncing our  paper  if  they  believed  many  of  the  things  they  said 
of  ourselves.  A  priest  of  Ballycastle,  a  little  town  on  the  north 
coast,  near  Rathlin  Island,  in  preaching  to  his  congregation  one 
day,  in  1864,  said,  while  denouncing  our  paper  and  our  society, 
that  the  opinions  some  of  us  held  on  marriage  were  that  if  a  man 
did  not  like  his  wife  he  could  put  her  away  and  take  another,  and 
put  the  second  away  and  take  a  third  ;  and  that  one  of  us  had  car- 
ried out  his  opinions  so  vigorously  on  that  matter  that  he  was  at 
that  time  taking  a  trial  of  the  ninth  wife.  A  few  weeks  after  the 
reverend  gentleman  said  this  I  was  at  Mass  in  his  chapel,  and,  on 
my  way  to  M'Donald's  Hotel,  my  companion — Mr.  Darrragh,  who 


O Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life.  27 

died  in  Portland  Prison — told  me  this  story  of  the  gentleman  I  saw 
celebrating  Mass. 

When  I  was  on  this  trip  in  the  North  of  Ireland,  I  was  instruct- 
ively amused  in  the  town  of  Ballymena  at  something  which  may  be 
learned  from  the  following  anecdote: 

One  of  the  most  active  workers  in  the  town  had  been  going  about 
with  me  to  some  of  his  friends  in  the  mountains  between  Ballymena 
and  Cushendal,  and  he  never  showed  any  symptoms  of  fear  or  con- 
cern lest  any  particular  individuals  should  see  him  walking  with 
such  a  suspicious-looking  stranger  as  I  was,  till  one  morning  that 
we  were  going  to  Bandalstown  to  see  some  fellow-laborers  in  the 
cause.  We  were  walking  up  and  down  the  platform  of  the  railway 
station  awaiting  the  train;  policemen  and  detectives  wTere  on  duty 
there,  and  magistrates  were  walking  around,  too.  He  was  telling 
me  wTho  was  this  man,  and  that  man;  there  was  a  relative  of  "Fin- 
ola's,"  and  here  w^as  a  cousin  of  William  Orr's,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
he  bounded  away  from  me  and  ran  behind  a  railway  wagon.  The 
train  was  about  starting  when,  coming  toward  me,  I  asked  him 
what  was  the  matter. 

"Ah,"  said  he,  "didn't  you  see  Father  Lynch  coming  up;  he 
knows  me  well,  for  he  has  been  at  me  about  the  paper  and  the  or- 
ganization; knowing  that  you  were  a  stranger  he  would  immediate- 
ly suspect  what  we  were  about,  and  I  thought  it  better  he  should 
not  see  us  together." 

This  was  a  sad  reflection  to  me  all  the  way  to  Randalstown,  to 
think  that  this  Irishman  defied  all  the  myrmidons  of  English  rule 
while  working  for  Ireland,  and  only  quailed  before  him  who  should 
be  Ireland's  truest  friend.  While  living  in  Dublin  many  stories 
came  to  my  ear  about  the  efforts  some  of  the  priests  were  making 
to  arrest  the  progress  of  our  work.  Some  of  them  might  not  be 
thought  worthy  of  credence,  and  I  myself  pitched  upon  one,  which 
I  held  in  my  mind  as  a  little  exaggerated,  and  that  was  that  certain 
priests  refused  to  marry  men  who  were  connected  with  the  revolu- 
tionary movement  unless  they  "gave  it  up." 

I  do  not  know  whether  a  desire  to  test  the  truth  of  this  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  getting  into  my  head,  about  this  time,  the  idea 
of  marrying,  but  the  notion  got  there;  and,  as  it  was  associ- 
ated in  my  mind  with  the  picture  of  a  pretty  poetess,  I  could 
not  put  it  or  the  image  of  the  little  woman  out  of  my  head. 
Indeed,  to  be  candid,  I  did  not  try  to  do  so,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
cultivated  her  acquaintance  up  to  securing  her  consent  to  marry  me. 
She  lived  in  the  South  of  Ireland  and  I  lived  in  Dublin.  I  should 
take  with  me  a  license  from  the  priest  of  my  parish.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
O'Hanlon  lived  within  a  few  perches  of  the  office  of  the  Irish  Peo- 
ple. I  went  to  see  him,  and  took  George  Hopper  with  me.  He 
introduced  my  business  to  the  clergyman,  and  the  clergyman,  after 
satisfying  himself  that  I  was  a  marriageable  man,  proceeded  to 
write  my  license.     Alter  writing  a  few  words  he  stopped  and  said  : 


28  O  Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life. 

"  I  must  make  this  license  informal." 

"  How  is  that,  father  ?"  said  I. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "you  haven't  been  at  confession." 

"  But  I  am  ready  to  go  to  confession  to  you." 

"  Oh,  I  could  not  hear  your  confession,  now  that  I  know  you/' 

"  Couldn't  you  hear  a  confession  of  my  sins  ?" 

Priest — "  I  could  ;  but  as  I  know  you  belong  to  the  Irish  People 
I  should  ask  you  certain  questions,  which  you  should  answer,  and 
which  would  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  give  you  absolution." 

"  And  does  belonging  to  the  Irish  People  put  a  man  outside  the 
sacraments  of  the  Catholic  Church  ?" 

Priest — "There  is  no  use  arguing  the  question  Mr.  O'Donovan. 
My  hands  are  tied  by  this  paper  here,  and  by  my  instructions  from 
Archbishop  Cull  en."  And  then  he  proceeded  to  read  the  printed 
paper  referred  to,  in  which  the  fratres  Feniores  were  talked  of 
side  by  side  with  the  Freemason/m^res  and  the  fratri  Carabonari. 

"  Well,  Father,  said  I,"  "  you  had  better  make  out  a  license  as 
best  you  can,  and  if  it  be  in  order  to  say  so,  you  can  state  that  I 
offered  to  go  to  confession  to  you  and  that  you  couldnt't  hear 
me."  "Yery  well,"  replied  he.  And  taking  the  scrap  of  paper 
from  him  when  he  had  done,  I  shook  hands  with  him,  and  bade 
him  sfood-b^e. 

I  took  the  train  for  the  south  of  Ireland,  and  I  began  to  reflect 
that  I  was  going  into  the  diocese  of  the  Bishop  of  Ross,  and  into 
the  Parish  of  Father  Leader,  both  of  whom  knew  me  well,  and 
both  of  whom  I  knew,  from  previous  experience,  would  place  every 
possible  ecclesiastical  and  lay  obstacle  in  the  way  of  my  "  making 
myself  happy."  I  thought  to  myself  I  had  better  stop  in  Cork  and 
try  to  make  the  matter  all  right  there  before  I  got  to  Clonakilty. 
I  did  stop  and  I  strolled  into  a  chapel  near  the  Northgate-bridge, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Bells  of  Shandon.  There  was  no 
priest  there  ;  but  I  learned  that  by  going  up  to  a  convent,  which 
was  at  the  back  of  the  chapel,  I  could  see  a  priest.  I  went  up  and 
was  introduced  to  a  Dominican  Father.  Dressed  in  his  white 
woollen  robe,  he  sat  down  and  I  knelt  at  his  feet.  I  ended,  per- 
haps badly,  perhaps  not  in  the  proper  spirit ;  anyway,  it  was  with 
a  desire  to  conform  to  the  education  of  my  youth  and  "  the  custom 
of  the  country."  And  ending,  I  said  :  "  That  is  all,  Father,"  when 
he  immediately  asked  : 

"  Do  you  belong  to  any  secret  society?" 

"No." 

"  Do  you  belong  to  any  society  in  which  you  took  an  oath  ?" 

"I  do." 

"What  is  the  object  of  it?" 

"To  free  Ireland  from  English  rule." 

"You  must  give  it  up." 

"  I  must  not." 

The  old  fight  went  on  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.    I  got  up  from 


O1  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  29 

my  knees  and  asked  him  if  lie  would  give  me  a  certificate  stating 
that  I  had  been  to  confession  to  him,  but  that  he  could  not  give 
me  absolution. 

"That  I  could  not  do,"  said  he,  "  without  your  permission." 
'*I  give  you  permission,"  said  I;  "  nay,  I  ask  you  to  state  the 
reason  why  you  would  not  give  it  to  me  ?  I  am  no  way  ashamed 
of  it  before  man  or  afraid  of  it  before  God,  and  if  all  my  other 
sins  were  forgiven  I  could  face  him  fearlessly  on  the  last  day  with 
nothing  to  account  for  but  that  for  which  the  Church  excommuni- 
cates me." 

After  hard  pressing  I  got  the  certificate  from  him,  and  I  left  the 
chapel  thinking  I  would  leave  myself  and  my  sins  to  the  mercy  of 
God  in  the  future,  and  that  it  would  be  a  long  time  again  before  I 
would  trouble  such  priests. 

I  went  to  Clonakilty.  I  met  the  little  poetess.  Her  father  very 
reluctantly  consented  to  our  marriage,  and,  after  consenting,  I  told 
him  the  difficulties  that  may  be  put  in  our  way  by  Father  Leader. 
He  went  to  the  priest,  paid  him  the  marriage  money,  but  in  view 
of  my  advice  to  him  he  was  cautious  enough  at  first  not  to  tell  him 
who  the  intended  husband  was.  He  called  the  second  time  for  the 
"  permit"  to  the  curate  to  marry  us,  and  learning  that  I  was  the 
happy  man,  he  asked  him  to  go  back  and  bring  him  my  license. 
The  license  was  brought  him,  and  he  immediately  pronounced  it 
informal,  and  said  I  should  be  sent  to  the-  bishop.  The  bishop 
lived  some  twenty  miles  away,  and  I  told  my  father-in-law  that  I 
had  to  leave  for  England  the  next  day,  and  that  unless  I  got  mar- 
ried without  delay  I  should  leave  Clonakilty  without  doing  so,  and 
only  asked  him  get  back  the  marriage  money  from  the  priest,  and 
to  bring  himself  and  his  daughter  to  Cork  to  get  us  married.  The 
priest  told  him  to  bring  both  of  us  up  to  him;  and  when  this  was 
announced  to  me,  I  told  both  of  them  that  unless  they  were  firm 
in  telling  the  priest  they  would  adopt  the  above  course,  in  view  of 
the  necessity  that  obliged  me  to  leave  Ireland  immediately,  that 
we  could  not  get  the  better  of  Father  Leader,  and  both  agreed  to 
be  firm  in  the  matter. 

"When  we  reached  the  priest,  he  questioned  me  as  to  my  license, 
my  residence  in  Dublin,  and  my  residence  in  Skibberecn.  He  said 
I  had  lived  my  life  in  Skibbereen;  that  my  family  was  there  now; 
that  it  was  from  that  parish  I  should  have  my  license  ;  that  the 
one  I  had  was  informal  and  of  no  use ;  that  I  should  go  to  the 
Bishop,  and  that  it  was  entirely  out  of  his  power  to  marry  me,  as 
things  stood.  To  this  I  replied  that  I  had  lived  in  Dublin  for  the 
past  eighteen  months;  that  it  was  my  recognized  residence;  that 
if  the  license  was  informal  it  was  no  fault  of  mine,  as  I  had  made 
every  effort  to  harmonize  things  with  the  requirements  of  the 
church;  that  I  had  no  time  to  go  to  see  the  Bishop,  as  I  was  leav- 
ing Ireland  the  following  day,  and  if  he  could  not  marry  me  I 
should  have  to  go  to  Cork  to  get  mariied. 


30  O  Donovan  Rosscls  Prison  Life. 

"  What !"  Do  you  think  that  Miss  Irwin  would  give  such  scan- 
dal in  this  parish  as  to  leave  it  with  a  strange  man,  without  get- 
ting married  V 

"  I  am  not  a  strange  man  in  this  country.  I  want  no  scandal 
in  connection  with  me.  I  want  to  get  married,  and  if  you  put  dif- 
ficulties in  the  way,  I  hope  Miss  Irwin  will  assist  me  to  overcome 
them." 

Mr.  Irwin — I  believe  if  you  don't  marry  Mary  Jane  that  she 
will  go  to  Cork  to  get  married.  I  have  given  my  consent  to  the 
marriage,  and  if  you  will  not  marry  them,  I  will  permit  her  to 
go." 

Father  Leader — "  That  matter  rests  with  Miss  Irwin  herself. 
And  now,  Miss  Irwin,  I  ask  you — you  who  have  received  a  convent 
education — will  you  cast  such  a  reflection  upon  those  holy  nuns 
who  instructed  you  ?  Will  you  give  such  scandal  to  the  girls  of 
this  parish  as  to  leave  it  with  a  strange  man  without  being  married 
to  him  ?  I  now  ask  you  would  you  leave  it  without  being  married 
if  I  did  not  marry  you !" 

Miss  Irwin — "  I  would  !" 

Father  Leader  (addressing  himself  to  me)  said  : 

"  Oh !  whatever  be  your  hostility  to  our  poor  old  Mother  Church, 
that  has  protected  us  and  promises  to  protect  us  through  all  ages 
— whatever  you  do  to  create  disrespect  of  the  ministers  of  our  holy 
religion,  and  to  corrupt  society,  leave  us — do  leave  us  one  thing  : 
leave  us  the  virtue  of  our  women." 

By  Jove,  didn't  I  feel  this  to  be  hard  ?  But  the  man  who  said 
it  was  a  priest,  and  there  was  no  strength  in  my  arm.  He  is  dead, 
aNd  God  be  merciful  to  him;  but  my  wife  and  her  father  are  alive 
to  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of  what  I  say.  We  got  an  order  to 
the  curate  of  the  parish  to  marry  us,  and  "if  ive  don't  live  happy 
that  you  may." 

The  following  poem  is  part  of  the  labors  of  my  prison  life. 
From  it,  it  may  truthfully  be  inferred,  that  the  lady  and  I  "  made 
the  match"  without  the  knowledge  of  her  parents;  that  when  they 
heard  of  it  they  decided  it  was  an  unwise  undertaking;  that  by 
.their  advice  she  wrote  to  me,  saying  that  the  matter  was  at  an  end, 
and  not  to  w^rite  any  more ;  but  I  threatened  her  with  a  breach  of 
promise  case,  and  that  or  the  visitation  of  my  ghost  in  case  of  my 
dying  of  a  broken  heart,  frightened  her  into  re-changing  her  mind : 


THE  DUTIFUL  DAUGHTER. 

A  dutiful  daughter  won  ruy  heart, 
And  after  winning  it,  cruelly  said, 

I  write  to  tell  you  that  we  must  part, 

For  papa  and  mamma  won't  have  us  wed. 


0' Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life,  31 

Mamma  asked  me  last  night  to  sing, 

As  we  sat  in  the  parlor  after  tea  ; 
But  as  I  played,  she  noticed  the  ring — 

Then  I  told  the  truth,  when  she  questioned  met 

She  said  she  liked  you  well  as  a  friend, 
And  wished  none  better  than  she  wished  you. 

And  telling  papa — he  said  it  could  end 
In  nothing  but  ruin  to  the  two. 

He  knew  you  were  never  inclined  to  save  ; 

He  knew  you  were  never  a  miser,  nor  poor  ; 
He  knew  that  all  you  could  hope  to  have 

Would  keep  a  wife,  but  would  keep  no  more 

That  cares  come  on  in  a  year  or  two, 

Which  young  people  marrying  never  see  ; 
And  'twould  be  as  much  as  you  could  do 

To  get  us  both  bread,  butter  and  tea. 

That  half  the  miseries  of  this  life 

Were  caused  by  people  who  rashly  wed ; 
That  he  was  to  blame  who  took  a  wife, 

Unprepared  for  others,  who'd  cry  for  bread  f 

I  never  saw  papa  so  troubled  before  ; 

I  never  before  saw  mamma  cry. 
I  told  them  I'd  think  of  our  marriage  no  more. 

For  they  know  more  of  the  world  than  L 

Then  papa  said  he  would  write  a  letter, 

To  tell  you  the  matter  was  at  an  end  ; 
But  mamma  thought  I  might  write  the  letter, 

And  send  the  ring  in  it — which  I  send. 

As  this  is  my  last — I'll  say  adieu  ; 

I  never  looked  into  the  future  before  • 
What  papa  and  mamma  say  is  true. 

Good  bye  !  good  bye.    Don't  write  any  more. 


This  is  the  letter  that  causes  the  smart ; 

This  is  the  letter  that  nurses  the  pain  ; 
This  is  the  letter  that  pierces  the  heart ; 

This  the  letter  that  burns  the  brain. 

Bright  dreams  of  Paradise,  where  have  you  gone  ? 

Odors  of  fairy  bowers,  where  have  you  flown  ? 
Cupid  plucked  summer  flowers,  where  are  you  strewn  f 

A. ui  I  lost,  am  I  left  in  the  world  alone  ? 


g2  0' Donovan   Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

I  can't  rest,  I  can't  eat,  I  can't  sleep,  I  can't  pray — 

Can  do  nothing  but  drink — oh  I  I  would'nt  much  grieve 

If  death  vould  but  come  in  a  natural  way, 
But  God  in  His  mercy  ordains  that  I  live. 

I'm  like  a  wreck  on  a  sea-washed  rock, 

That  every  wave  heaves  to  and  fro; 
I'm  like  a  lightning-stricken  oak 

With  its  source  of  life  all  charred  below. 

All  mankind  should  pity  and  come  to  my  aid; 

For  the  race  would  die  out  if  some  men  hadn't  spirit 
To  marry  until  they  had  fortunes  made — 

"With  odds  against  having  an  heir  to  inherit. 

Will  anything  alter  the  state  of  my  mind  ? 

I  find  myself  tempted  to  go  on  a  spree — 
Or  go  making  verses — I'm  strongly  inclined 

To  appeal  through  the  Press  for  sympathy. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Sezurz  or  the  "Irish  People" — Arrfst  and  Search  for  Paper? 
— the  Ballybar  Races — Story  Telling — Little  Jealousies- 
Ordered  off  to  America — In  Court — Nagle  and  the  Detec- 
tives— Richmond  Prison — Religion  and  Routine — Stripping — 
My  Cell — My  Board  and  Lodging — My  Wife's  Visit  and  Dr. 
Cullen's  Slanders — "  Mad  Dog  "  and  Barry  the  Crown  Pros- 
ecutor— The  Lower  Castle  Yard — Preliminary  Examinations 
— High  Treason  and  Hanging — Stephens'  Escape — Seizure  op 
my  Defence  Papers — The  Trial — The  Packed  Jury — The 
Packed  Bench — Keogh  and  Fitzgerald — Conviction  and  Sen- 
tence for  Life — Search  for  my  Treasonable  Documents. 

On  the  evening  of  the  15th  of  September,  1865,  as  I  was  talk- 
ing to  some  friends  in  No.  82  Dame  street,  Dublin,  Mr.  Patrick 
Kearney  rushed  in  and  said  the  Irish  People  was  seized,  exclaiming, 
"  What  are  we  to  do  ?"  He  had  fight  in  his  eye,  and  I  saw  that  the 
most  welcome  words  to  him  would  be  instructions  to  resist  the  po- 
lice. But,  with  very  few  arms,  I  knew  we  could  not  fight  that 
night;  and  I  told  Paddy  Kearney,  who  had  a  number  of  fighting 
men  at  his  command,  that  we  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  keep  quiet, 
and  that  I  would  go  up  to  the  office.  I  was  expecting  that  this 
swoop  would  be  made,  and  always  taking  precautions  to  keep  no 
papers  about  me,  I  searched  my  pockets,  and  gave  a  few  business 
receipts  and  a  small  pistol  to  Mike  Moynahan.  I  lived  across  the 
street,  and  when  I  left  my  residence  an  hour  before,  I  left  my  wife 
packing  up  her  trunks.  I  was  under  orders  from  Mr.  Stephens  to 
go  to  America,  and  I  was  taking  my  wife  to  the  south  of  Ireland 
next  morning.  I  had  always  given  her  instructions  to  destroy  any 
papers  connected  with  the  organization  that  she  may  find  about 
the  house,  but  there  was  one  document  that  I  told  her  to  preserve, 
and  this  she  sewed  into  the  leather  lining  of  her  pocket-book.  The 
thought  struck  me  that  it  was  better  to  destroy  that  too.  I  told 
the  boys  about  me  that  I  would  run  over  to  speak  a  word  to  my 
wife,  and  then  go  to  the  Irish  People  office;  but  as  I  was  going 
across  the  street  two  detectives  pounced  on  me  and  said  I  was 
their  prisoner.  Each  had  clutched  a  shoulder  of  me,  and  they  were 
so  excited  that  their  nervous  tremor  kept  shaking  me. 


34  0 'Donovan  Rosso1  s  Prison  Life. 

"  All  right,  gentleman,"  said  I,  "but  you  need  not  be  so  much 
afraid,  or  grasp  me  so  tight. 

One  of  them  stuck  his  hand  into  the  side  pocket  of  my  coat 
and  pulled  out  nothing;  the  other  followed  suit;  and  then  they 
conducted  me  through  the  Lower  Castle  Yard  to  Chancery-lane 
Police  Station.  I  was  the  first  in.  They  took  me  to  the  searcher, 
turned  my  pockets  inside  out,  and  found  no  treasure  but  my  money, 
which  they  returned  to  me.  By  and  bye  others  were  brought  in, 
and  by  twelve  o'clock  we  had  a  company  of  about  twenty,  amongst 
whom  was  Captain  Murphy,  who  kept  us  alive  by  proclaiming  him- 
self "a  citizen  of  Boston,"  and  protesting  against  his  illegal  arrest. 
At  twelve  o'clock,  George  Hopper,  John  O'Clohissy,  myself  and  a 
fourth  party  were  huddled  into  a  privy  and  kept  there  till  twelve 
o'clock  next  day.  The  compartment  was  about  seven  feet  square 
— a  receiving  cell  for  a  drunken  man  or  woman ;  the  lid  was  broken 
off  the  closet;  we  had  no  bed,  no  room  to  stretch  or  walk  about; 
so  that  our  first  night's  imprisonment  did  not  open  under  very 
encouraging  auspices.  But  I  had  many  a  worse  night  since — many 
a  one  to  which  the  first  was  a  paradise. 

When  my  two  guardians  had  secured  me  they  made  for  my  resi- 
dence, and  turned  everything  upside  down  in  search  of  papers.  They 
took  a  lot  of  old  Irish  manuscripts  belonging  to  Nicholas  O'Kear- 
ney,  a  Gaelic  scholar,  lately  deceased.  These  they  took  away,  and 
I  never  saw  them  since.  I  had  a  revolver,  and  they  took  it 
with  them  too,  though,  at  the  time,  it  was  perfectly  legiti- 
mate property.  James  O'Connell  O'Callaghan  was  in  the  house 
when  the  detectives  arrived.  He  came  to  tell  my  wife  that  I  was 
arrested,  and,  asking  her  were  there  any  dangerous  papers  around, 
she  said  not,  except  one  she  had  in  a  safe  place.  He  told  her,  how- 
ever safe  the  place  was,  that  it  was  safer  to  put  it  in  the  fire  ;  so 
she  ripped  open  the  pocket-book  and  burned  the  treasure.  It  was 
a  letter  of  James  Stephens',  and  I  may  as  well  tell  the  story  of  its 
preservation  here  as  anywhere  else. 

I  had  many  letters  trom  him  during  the  course  of  four  or  five 
years  ;  but  this  was  the  only  one  that  cost  me  an  unpleasant 
thought,  and  made  me  fear  that  I  was  about  to  lose  his  friend- 
ship. Some  one  may  ask  why  I  should  fear  to  lose  the  friend- 
ship of  such  a  man,  and  I  say  for  the  simple  reason  that  I  liked 
him  ;  that  I  believed  he  was  going  the  right  way  to  free 
Ireland;  and  I  saw  him  working  in  the  direction  through  all  kinds 
of  difficulties  and  under  circumstances  that  would  paralyze  the 
spirit  of  an  ordinary  man.  I  worked  with  him,  or  under  him,  if 
people  will  have  it  so.  I  believe  I  have  even  since  been  looked 
upon  by  some  of  my  friends  as  too  friendly  to  him,  and  par- 
ticularly since  his  failure  this  prejudice  follows  me.  I  am  told  by 
friends  that  I  believed  in  him  with  a  religious  belief,  nntf  did  every- 
t\  :ng  that  he  wished  done.  It  is  true  I  wns  oV^die^t.  bnt»bi*»  obe- 
dience never  degenerated  into  subserviency.     I  did  everything  I 


O1  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life.  35 

was  told;  but  James  Stephens  never  told  me  to  do  anything  that 
my  heart  was  not  in,  and  my  own  judgment  did  not  tell  me  was 
promotive  of  the  cause  of  Irish  independence.  I  did  many  things 
without  his  instructions;  but  with  them  or  without  them,  I  am  not 
ashamed  of  anything  I  did  in  connection  with  the  revolutionary 
movement  in  Ireland,  England  and  Scotland. 

The  nature  of  the  document  my  wife  had  hid,  and  which  James 
O'Callaghan  made  her  destroy  before  the  detectives  came  in,  will  be 
learned  from  the  following  narrative  : 

In  the  first  week  of  September,  1865,  the  races  of  Ballybar  were 
to  come  off  near  Carlow.  The  men  in  the  organization  availed  them  ■ 
selves  of  gatherings  of  this  kind  to  meet  and  discuss  all  questions 
affecting  their  interests.  At  the  previous  races  I  had  been  with 
Mr.  Stephens  himself,  at  Ballybar,  and  now  the  Carlow  men  wrote 
to  Dublin,  asking  that  some  one  should  be  sent  down,  and  that 
Rossa  was  the  person  they  wished  to  meet.  On  this  occasion  I 
should  ask  to  be  relieved  if  delegated  to  go,  for  I  was  a  short  time 
before  at  the  Navan  and  Trim  races  ;  I  was  tired  of  running  about, 
and  my  wife  was  beginning  to  look  even  blacker  than  she  does  look 
at  my  being  out  nearly  every  night.  I  received  a  letter  in  the  Irish 
People  office,  and  it  being  my  duty  to  forward  it  to  the  Boss,  I  did 
so.  In  the  evening  I  got  a  note  asking  "  why  should  those  Carlow 
men  attempt  to  dictate  to  him  the  proper  party  to  be  sent  down  ? 
they  should  be  taught  that  they  could  not  do  that,  and  it  was  for 
him  to  determine  who  was  the  fittest  party  to  meet  them."  I  could 
not  go,  and  he  bade  me  write  to  them  to  tell  them  so,  and  told  my- 
self to  be  in  read  ness  to  start  for  America  on  the  following  Friday. 

If  he  had  learned  that  I  had  written  to  the  Carlow  men,  asking 
them  to  write  for  me,  he  might  be  justified  in  sending  me  such  a 
letter.  I  had  been  to  America  in  July;  I  was  asked  to  go  again  in 
August;  but  I,  by  permission,  delegated  the  commission  to  another. 

I  was  a  new  married  man,  I  was  not  yet  tired  of  my  wife,  and  I 
wished  to  show  her  that  I  had  something  in  me  besides  those  ram- 
bling propensities  which  the  exigencies  of  the  occasions  created,  and 
which,  from  the  memories  of  those  times,  she  still  imagines  I  am 
largely  possessed  of. 

In  deference  to  my  own  wishes  and  to  hers  I  did  not  go  in 
August,  but  now  I  saw  there  was  nothing  for  me  but  to  go.  I  took 
the  letter  to  her  and  told  her  she  may  see  it  was  not  a  matter  of 
choice  now  ;  that  from  what  she  could  read,  in  the  tone  of  it,  she 
could  see  that  my  sphere  of  usefulness  was  closed  in  Ireland.  My 
easily-earned,  unmerited,  and  worthless  popularity  was  getting  me 
into  a  scrape.  I  fancied  Mr.  Stephens  showed  signs  of  a  little  jea- 
lousy, and  I,  having  something  perhaps  of  the  nature  of  woman  in 
me,  felt  hurt  and  pained  at  seeing  this  passion  aroused  in  my 
p  artner,  when  I  had  not  an  impure  or  disloyal  thought  in  my  head, 
and  when  he  had  little  cause  from  me^and  less  danger.     I  told  my 


36  G?  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

wife  to  preserve  the  letter,  and  this  is  the  one  she  burned  the  night 
she  was  packing  up  to  go  home  preparatory  to  my  going  to  America. 

About  twelve  o'clock  the  day  after  our  arrest  we  were  taken  out 
of  our  privy,  locked  up  into  one  of  the  black  vans,  and  conducted 
to  a  police  office.  Vast  numbers  of  people  were  in  the  streets,  and 
the  detectives  found  in  the  crowd  that  surrounded  the  van  as  we 
were  coming  out,  many  whom  they  suspected  of  connection  with 
us,  and  arrested  them.  About  thirty  of  us  were  in  the  dock,  and 
I  saw  around  me  the  proprietor,  the  editor  and  sub-editors,  the 
printers,  porters  and  reporters  of  the  Irish  People.  The  authorities 
had  burst  open  the  premises,  seized  all  the  papers  and  materials, 
and  had  them  carted  off  to  the  Castle,  had  taken  possession  of  the  es- 
tablishment, and  left  police  in  charge  of  it.  They  tore  up  the  boards, 
arrested  every  man  that  came  to  inquire  after  anything  about  the 
concern,  and  refused  admittance  to  our  wives.  They  seized  Mr. 
O'Leary's  bank  book,  laid  an  embargo  upon  the  money  in  the 
hank,  and   refused    to    allow  Mr.   O'Leary  to  draw  it  until    his 

jisel  made  a  motion  in  court  for  it.  They  knew  that 
in  this  they  were  acting  illegally,  and  refused  to  act 
otherwise  without  obliging  us  to  have  recourse  to  their  own  law  to 
make  them  do  so. 

The  prosecuting  counsel,  Mr.  Barry,  appeared  in  court,  and, 
addressing  a  stipendiary  magistrate  who  sat  on  the  bench  for  the 
special  occasion,  charged  the  prisioners  in  the  dock  with  conspiracy, 
made  some  observations  as  to  our  fell  designs  against  Church  and 
State,  priests  and  landlords,  and  wound  up  by  saying  that  the  ends 
of  justice  demanded  that  we  be  sent  to  prison  for  a  week,  without 
disclosing  the  evidence  against  us,  as  other  parties  were  implicated 
who  were  not  yet  in  the  hands  of  justice.  The  evidence  was 
so  voluminous  that  it  would  require  a  little  time  to  arrange  it.  The 
magistrate  granted  what  he  asked,  and  we  were  remanded  for  a 
week. 

The  prosecutor  left  the  court;  we  were  delayed  in  the  dock 
about  an  hour,  and  here  something  occurred  that  set  me  thinking 
about  the  informer,  Nagle,  who  was  also  a  prisoner.  The  detec- 
tives were  around  us.  I  knew  some  of  them,  and  I  asked  if  they 
would  not  allow  my  wife  in,  who  was  outside  the  door.  I  was  told 
it  couid  not  be  done.  I  heard  Nagle  make  a  similar  request,  and 
the  detectives  went  out  and  brought  in  Mrs.  Nagle,  who  remained 
talking  to  her  husband  over  the  rails  for  some  minutes.  A  bad 
thought  came  into  my  head,  not  about  the  woman,  but  the  man; 
but  I  banished  it  in  a  moment,  and  set  the  favor  down  to  the  de- 
tective's personal  friendship  for  him.  To  be  suspicious  is  not  char- 
acteristic of  our  people.  We  consider  every  man  honest  until  he 
plays  the  rogue  with  us  at  our  expense,  and  I  am  seriously  think- 
ing of  going  on  the  opposite  tack  of  thinking  every  one  a  rogue 
until  I  prove  him  an  honest  man,  at  least  I'll  try  and  study  myself 


(J Donovan  RossoJs  Prison  Life.  37 

into  the  disposition  if  I  get  time  to  study  in  this  busy  New  York, 
or  if  I  can  change  this  bad  part  of  my  good  nature. 

Into  the  black  van  again,  amidst  the  encouraging  huzzas  of  the 
crowd ;  up  towards  Richmond  Prison ;  the  big  black  gate  opens ; 
the  cars  rumble  over  the  pavement ;  we  are  taken  out,  and  we  find 
ourselves  locked  in.  I  am  taken  into  a  large  hall,  and  in  a  line 
with  my  companions  we  are  registered  as  inmates,  and  all  goes  on 
smoothly  until  we  come  to  the  religious  part  of  the  business.  Mr. 
O'Leary,  Mr.  Luby  and  myself  are  in  the  room  together.  I  am  asked 
what  my  religion  is,  and  I  say  I  am  an  Irish  Catholic.  They  have 
no  such  denomination  on  their  books,  and  I  must  register  myself  as 
a  Roman  Catholic.  I  was  Irish,  not  Roman,  but  this  would  not  do  ; 
there  was  the  printed  heading  of  Roman  Catholic  on  the  register, 
and  I  should  sign  my  name  under  that.  I  offered  to  go  to  the 
chapel,  but  they  would  not  let  me  go  to  church  or  chapel  unless  I 
signed  the  register,  and  this  I  refused  to  do.  Mr.  O'Leary  adopted 
a  similar  course,  and  I  think  Mr.  Luby.  We  were  left  in  our  cells 
while  the  others  were  at  prayers,  and  then  it  was  industriously  cir- 
culated to  our  prejudice  that  we  refused  to  be  of  any  religion,  which 
so  far  corroborated  the  slanders  that  were  uttered  against  us,  and 
will  be  ever  uttered  against  every  people  who  dare  to  do  anything 
against  an  established  tyranny. 

The  next  part  of  the  performance  was  to  strip  me  naked,  take  my 
clothes  aside,  and  turn  the  pockets  of  them  inside  out.  An  in- 
ventory of  my  stock  was  taken.  My  pocket-book,  my  pencil  or  my 
knife  would  not  be  returned  to  me.  I  was  shown  into  a  flagged 
cell,  seven  feet  by  six,  which  contained  no  furniture  but  a  stool,  and 
a  board  stuck  into  one  of  the  corners  of  the  wali  to  serve  me  as  a 
table.  I  was  told  I  would  be  allowed  to  pay  for  my  board,  but  if  I 
did  not  pay  I  should  work.  Mr.  O'Leary  occupied  the  cell  next  to 
me.  The  jailor  communicated  between  us,  and  we  agreed  to  pay  for 
our  maintenance.  No  such  luxuries  as  wine  or  porter  or  spirituous 
liquor  of  any  kind  would  be  allowed  us  if  we  desired  to  indulge  in 
them — not  even  tobacco  or  snuff.  We  got  one  hour's  exercise  every 
day  in  the  open  air,  and  the  most  rigid  precautions  were  taken  le»t 
we  should  have  any  conversation  during  this  hour.  We  were  made 
to  walk  six  paces  apart,  and  ordered  always  to  keep  our  faces  to 
the  front.  This  was  treating  us  to  convict  life  before  we  were  con- 
victed. I  often  thought  to  kick  against  it,  but  I  did  not  like  to 
make  myself  singular  in  company  or  to  set  a  bad  example. 

The  time  of  remand  passed  by,  and  we  were  preparing  to  go  to 
the  court  to  hear  what  was  to  be  sworn  against  us  ;  but  the  court 
visited  us  in  prison,  in  the  person  of  a  magistrate,  who  informed  us 
that  we  were  remanded  for  another  week  ;  and  when  that  week  was 
passed  we  were  taken  into  the  Lower  Castle  Yard  to  be  confronted 
with  our  accusers. 

My  wife  was  allowed  to  see  me  in  the  presence  of  the  governor 
of  the   prison,  and  at  our  interview  we  were  obliged  to  speak  loud 


SS  (J Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life. 

enough  for  him  to  hear  what  we  said.  She  told  me  of  all  the  ter- 
rible things  that  the  papers  were  saying  about  us.  Archbishop 
Cullen  himself  came  out  in  a  pastoral  against  us,  and  aided  the 
Crown  work  by  abusing  the  prisoners.  Our  natural  enemies  were 
bad  enough  ;  but  when  the  sanctity  of  the  Catholic  Church 
corroborated  the  slanders  of  the  English  enemy,  we  were 
pretty  badly  off. 

When  the  head  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  Ireland  said  that  "  we 
proposed  nothing  less  than  to  destroy  the  faith  of  our  people,  to  seize  the 
property  of  those  who  had  any,  and  to  exterminate  the  gentry  and  the 
Catholic  clergy"  I  suppose  it  must  be  true  ;  but  /  don't  believe  one' 
word  of  it.  England's  work  was  done,  however  innocently  or  re- 
ligiously the  holy  man  did  it.  This  is  one  paragragh  of  his  pas- 
toral, and  not  the  worst  one : 

"  If  the  charges  lately  made  against  the  originators  of  the  move- 
ment had  been  made  known,  every  one  would  have  been  filled  with 
alarm  at  their  introduction  into  the  country  ;  for  they  are  said  to 
have  proposed  nothing  less  than  to  destroy  the  faith  of  our  people 
by  circulating  works  like  those  of  the  impious  Voltaire,  to  preach  up 
Socialism,  to  seize  the  property  of  those  who  have  any,  and  to  ex- 
terminate both  the  gentry  of  the  country  and  the  Catholic  clergy. 
Whatever  is  to  be  said  of  such  fearful  accusations — which  we  hope 
are  only  founded  on  vague  report — it  is  too  certain  that  the  man- 
agers of  the  Fenian  paper,  called  the  Irish  People,  made  it  a  vehicle 
ot  scandal,  and  circulated  in  its  columns  most  pernicious  and 
poisonous  maxims.  Fortunately  they  had  not  the  wit  nor  the 
talents  of  Voltaire  ;  but,  according  to  appearances,  they  did  not 
yield  to  him  in  anxiety  to  do  mischief,  and  in  malice.  And  hence, 
it  must  be  admitted,  that  for  suppressing  that  paper  the  public 
authorities  deserve  the  thanks  and  gratitude  of  all  those  who  love 
Ireland,  its  peace  and  its  religion." 

Here  was  the  cry  of  "  mad  dog  "  raised  against  us  with  a  ven- 
geance ;  and  what  wonder  that  after  this  the  pious  Catholic  and 
Crown  prosecutor  Barry  would  follow  up  the  slander  at  the  pre- 
liminary investigation  for  the  benefit  of  the  public  indigdation. 
Here  are  some  of  his  words,  as  reported  : 

"  The  design,  as  manifested  from  their  writings,  both  public  and 
private,  as  will  be  proved  in  evidence  upon  the  trial — the  design 
took  the  form,  not  as  on  former  occasions  of  a  somewhat  similar 
character,  not  of  a  mere  revolutionary  theory,  not  some  theoreti- 
cal scheme  of  regeneration  by  substituting  one  government  for 
another  ;  but  it  partook  of  the  character  of  Socialism  in  its  most 
pernicious  and  wicked  phase  The  lower  classes  were  taught  to  be- 
lieve that  they  might  expect  a  redistribution  of  the  property,  real 
and  personal,  of  the  country.  They  were  taught  to  believe  that 
the  law  by  which  any  man  possessed  more  property  than  another 
was  unjust  and  wicked  ;  and  the  plan  of  operation,  as  will  be  found 
to  have  beeu  suggested,  is  horrible  to  conceive.     The  operations  of 


O  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life.  39 

this  revolution,  as  it  is  called,  were  to  be  commenced  by  an  indis- 
criminate massacre — by  the  assassination  of  all  those  above  the 
lower  classes,  including  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  (here  the  prison- 
oners,  O'Donovan  Rossa  and  O'Leary,  looked  at  each  other  and 
smiled),  against  whom  their  animosity  appears  from  their  writings  to 
be  especially  directed,  by  reason  of  the  opposition  which  those 
clergymen  thought  it  right,  as  Christian  ministers,  as  Irishmen,  and 
as  men  of  pence  and  honor,  to  give  to  the  projects  in  question." 

The  Lower  Castle  Yard  is  one  of  the  strongholds  of  the  English 
in  Dublin.     With  all   their  power  and  pretence  of  greatness  they 
were  afraid  to  take  us  into  one  of  their  ordinary  courthouses,  and 
went  through  the  farce  of  trying  us  with  closed  doors,  refusing  to 
admit    our  wives  and  sisters  who  were  outsidfi  the  gates.     There- 
porters  of  the  press  were,  however,  admitted  with  the  express  pur- 
pose of  giving  publicity  to  the  calumnies  and  the  terrible  things  with 
which  Barry,  the  prosecutor,  assailed  us  ;  but  which  he  was  never 
able  to  establish.     It  was   necessary  to  paint   us  hlack,  in  order  to 
j  ustify  the  illegality  of  the  arrests,  the  illegal  seizure  of  the  Irish 
People,  and  the  tyranny  and  despotism  that  characterized  every  act 
of  the  Executive  regarding  us.     When  England  was  fighting  in 
India,  the   English  papers,  in  order  to  justify  the  attrocities,  at- 
tributed    all   kinds    of    demon    tricks    to  the    barbarous   Sepoys. 
Women  were  sawn  across  between  deal  boards,  who  were  after- 
wards seen  in  England,  without  the  sign  of  a  saw's  tooth  in  them. 
When  it  was  thought  the  Irish  were  going  to  fight,  Hugh  Rose, 
who  operated  in  India,  was  pent  to  Ireland ;  and  to  pave  the  way  for 
his  process  of  pacifying  Ireland,  it  was  necessary  to  tell  horrible  tales 
of  the  blood-thirsty  Irish.     These  same  tales  will  ever  be  told  in  the 
English    interest   whenever  an  enemy  is  battling  against  England. 
The  things  that  are  "  expedient"  for  England  to  do  are  diabolical 
when  done  by  others.     She   must  have  a  monopoly  of  all    means 
necessary  to  her  ends,   and  she  would  scare  others   away  from  her 
own  practices,  lest  they  should  meet  her  on  equal  terms. 

She  will  tar  and  feather,  blast  and  burn,  dislocate  and  disem- 
bowel, blow  from  the  cannon's  mouth,  assasinate  and  murder,  as  it 
suits  her  purpose;  but  I  suppose  this  is  as  little  as  she  ought  to  be 
allowed  to  do  for  protecting  other  nations  from  such  practices  by 
her  denunciation  of  them.  Barry  denounced  the  men  who  medi- 
tated imbruing  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  pious  priests  and  lenient 
landlords;  but  the  men  could  not  open  their  lips  because  they  were 
represented  by  counsel,  and  this  counsel  was  bound,  under  penalty 
of  severe  reprimand,  to  act  with  due  decorum  and  not  interrupt  the 
counsel  for  the  Crown  while  making  a  statement,  which  he  should 
get  credit  for  having  evidence  to  sustain. 

I  took  the  precaution  to  tell  the  counsel  not  to  consider  himself 
engaged  for  me,  that  I  would  conduct  my  own  defence  and  now  and 
again  I  pleased  myself  by  saying  something  that  displeased  the 
bench.     I  never  like  to  have  my  tongue  tied  when  I  hear  people 


40  (J Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

telling  lies  of  me,  and  when  I  see  them  pretending  to  administer 
justice  to  me  by  endeavouring  to  cut  my  throat. 

This  was  the  first  time  we  saw  N"agle  come  forward  to  swear 
against  us.  He  had  been  employed  folding  papers  in  the  Irish 
People  office,  and  he  had,  he  said,  engaged  with  the  detectives 
eighteen  months  previously  to  give  information.  He  had  very  little 
to  swear,  but  the  Government  do  not  want  much  once  they  want 
victims.  The  machinery  of  their  law  can  accomodate  itself  to  every 
necessity  that  arises,  or  to  any  demand  made  upon  it,  whether  to 
convict  an  innocent  ''rebel"  or  to  acquit  a  criminal  loyalist. 

It  was  one  of  the  beautiful  things  connected  with  our  treatment 
that,  whereas,  we  were  charged  with  conspiracy,  and  that  the  evi- 
dence against  any  one  of  us  could  be  legally  urged  to  convict  all, 
though  all  may  be  unacquainted  with  the  individual  and  the  acts  of 
the  individual  in  question,  not  one  of  us  would  be  allowed  to  com- 
municate with  the  other  before  those  preliminary  investigations. 
My  deeds  were  evidence  against  John  O'Leary  and  Thomas  Clarke 
Luby ;  but  Thomas  Clarke  Luby  or  John  O'Leary  would  not  be 
allowed  to  speak  to  me  about  means  of  defence,  which  accounts  for 
such  passages  as  these  in  the  report  of  our  trials: 

O'Donovan  Rossa,  addressing  the  Court,  continued — "  This  is  the 
way  the  Irish  People  has  been  seized,  and  the  way  we  have  been 
treated.  Yesterday  we  wanted  to  have  an  hour's  conversation  in 
the  presence  of  an  officer  of  the  prison,  and  we  sent  this  message 
to  the  Governor : 

"Richmond  Prison,  Sunday,  October  1,  1865. 
"  Sir  :  In  taking  measures  to  prevent  us  from  speaking  or  com- 
municating with  each  other,  the  Government,  we  consider,  are  pre- 
cluding us  from  the  meaus  of  defence.  We  were  before  the  Crown 
Prosecutors  yesterday,  and  many  things  came  under  our  notice  that 
demand  our  consideration  for  a  short  time  before  we  are  taken  be- 
fore them  to-morrow  again.  "We  ask  that  we  maybe  allowed  to 
mfer  during  an  hour  or  so.  Did  the  matter  rest  with  yourself 
<ve  may  expect  you  would  see  the  justice  of  granting  our  request ; 
but  if  Government  has  given  orders  to  the  contrary,  of  course  we 
cannot  expect  it. 

John  O'Leary, 
O'Donovan  Rossa, 
T.  C.  Luby, 
James  O'Connor, 
George  Hopper." 

"  Well,  the  Governor  sent  a  message  saying  that  he  could  not 
grant  our  request  himself,  but  would  send  a  copy  of  our  communi- 
cation to  the  authorities;  and,  that  if  they  gave  him  liberty  he 
would  give  us  the  opportunity  we  asked.  Under  these  circum- 
stances I  think  we  were  treated  very  harshly.  If  we  were  charged 
with  murder,  or  the  assasination  with  whic-  Mr,  Barry  opened  his 


0' Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  41 

statement,  we  could  not  be  worse  treated  than  we  are.  We  defy 
you  to  prove  us  criminals.  We  defy  you  to  bring  evidence  to  show 
that  we  were  in  association  with  this  Nagle  or  Petit." 

We  would  not  be  allowed  to  consult  with  each  other.  We  were 
taken  before  the  paid  magistrate,  Mr.  Stronge,  who  had  his  instruc- 
tions in  his  pocket  how  to  dispose  of  us.  He  and  the  counsel  on  all 
sides  were  very  anxious  that  the  prisoners  would  keep  their  mouths 
shut,  but  the  prisoners  were  not  inclined  to  do  so,  as  the  following 
extracts  from  the  papers  of  the  time  testify : 

Mr.  Stronge — "I  consider  it  to  be  my  duty  to  commit  the  five 
prisoners — Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  C.  Manus  O'Keefe,  Thomas 
Clarke  Luby,  John  O'Leary,  and  James  O'Connor  for  trial  on  a 
charge  of  high  treason.  It  is  my  duty  to  ask  them  if  they  wish  to 
say  anything  in  reference  to  the  charge.  They  are  not  obliged  to 
say  anything  unless  they  desire  to  do  so.  Whatever  they  say  will 
be*  taken  down  in  writing,  and  may  be  used  as  evidence  against 
them  on  their  trial.  I  may  remind  them — what,  indeed,  may  al- 
most be  looked  on  as  an  impertinence  in  me  to  say — that  they  are 
represented  by  very  able  and  judicious  counsel,  and  it  is  for  them 
to  consider  whether  it  would  be  wise  for  them  to  say  anything." 

Mr.  O'Leary  asked  to  be  permitted  to  make  a  statement. 

Mr.  Sidney,  Q.C. — "  It  is  right  to  say  that  any  statement  he 
makes  is  not  made  with  my  concurrence. 

Mr.  O'Leary — "  Certainly.  When  first  we  appeared  before  this 
court,  Mr.  Barry  said  the  Government  was  not  proceeding  against 
us  from  any  fear  of  the  so-called  Fenians ;  but,  as  well  as  I  could  un- 
derstand him,  because  certain  weak-minded  persons,  I  suppose  in- 
cluding my  Lords  Bandon  and  Fermoy — were  afraid.  Now,  I  do 
not  care  to  enter  into  any  detail  as  to  the  manner  in  which  the  Gov- 
ernment has  treated  us  since  our  arrest;  but  I  may  say  that  a  Gov- 
ernment which  has  been  so  very  spiteful  must  be  somewhat  afraid." 

"  O'Donovan  Rossa  said  he  supposed  there  was  no  use  applying 
to  be  admitted  to  bail.  As  regarded  the  Irish  People  office,  which 
had  been  seized,  he  understood  that  guards  had  been  sent  to  the 
office,  who  received  all  the  letters  and  transmitted  them  to  the  Gov- 
ernment." 

Mr.  Barry,  Q.C. — "  I  believe  letters  are  anticipated." 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  They  are  received  and  sent  to  the  Govern- 
ment. This,  I  say,  is  more  despotic  than  the  conduct  of  the  Rus- 
sians in  Poland,  or  the  Austrians  in  Italy." 

Mr.  Stronge  said  they  were  charged  with  being  guirty  of  the 
high  crime  of  treason;  and  the  newspaper  publication,  and  every- 
thing connected  with  a  conspiracy — every  weapon  wielded  by  those 
persons,  was  seized  by  the  Government.  They  were  charged  with 
conspiring  to  upset  and  overthrow* the  Government  of  the  country, 
and  it  was  not  likely  the  Government  would  allow  them  to  continue 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  weapons  by  which  they  sought  to  over- 
throw it,     He  was  really  surprised  that  O'Donovan  complained  of 


$%  O Donovan   Rossa  s  Prison  Life. 

being  deprived  of  those  weapons;  the  complaint,  he  thought,  was 
quite  unreasonable. 

Mr.  Luby — "  I  must  say  you  said  any  government  in  Europe 
would  behave  precisely — " 

Mr.  Stronge — "  I  did  not.  I  said  any  government  at  either  side 
of  the  Atlantic." 

Mr.  Luby  said  that  during  the  present  century,  not  since  1803, 
had  any  government  adopted  so  harsh  a  measure,  except  where 
martial  law  was  proclaimed. 

Mr.  Stronge — "  You  are  now  committed  on  the  informations 
made  before  me." 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  We  have  not  seen  the  informations  on  which 
we  were  arrested." 

Mr.  Stronge — "  You  cannot  refer  to  them;  they  were  not  resorted 
to  here.     They  have  not  been  seen.     They  are  not  essential." 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  I  understand  you  circulate  reports  that  you 
got  information  from  the  American  government  ?" 

Mr.  Stronge — "  I  cannot  discuss  that  question  with  you." 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  I  think  I  can  speak  upon  Mr.  Barry's  speech, 
though  you  may  desire  to  shut  me  up." 

Mr.  Stronge — "  Do  you  deny  this  charge  or  not  ?" 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir;  I  want  to  make  an 
observation  with  regard  to  Mr.  Barry's  opening  statement.  You 
can  tell  me  I  shall  not  if  you  wish." 

Mr.  Stronge — "  I  don't  want  to  shut  you  out  from  making  an  ob- 
servation." 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  Or  explanation.  He  charged  the  parties 
connected  with  this — the  parties  charged  here — with  holding  the 
opinion  that  no  man  had  a  right  to  hold  more  property  than 
another.  I  deny  that  he  could  prove  it  by  any  article  in  the  paper. 
And  then,  talking  about  massacre  and  irreligion,  and  articles  con- 
nected with  it,  and  priests  and  their  assassination,  it  is  certainly  a 
novel  thing  in  the  history  of  the  world  to  have  an  English  Crown 
prosecutor  coming  here  to  preach  such  things  to  the  Irish  people." 

Mr.  Luby — "  Those  statements  were  mere  platitudes,  intended  for 
the  constituency  of  Dungarvan." 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  Mr.  Barry  brings  matters  forward  that  he 
has  got  since  we  were  arrested,  and  he  says  :  '  Under  these  circum- 
stances, it  was  impossible  for  the  Government  to  forbear' — that  is, 
that  it  was  impossible  for  the  Government  to  forbear  making  the 
late  seizure  after  getting  evidence  which  they  did  not  get  till  after 
they  made  that  seizure.  I  do  not  expect  justice  here.  This  is  a  prison. 
I  would  ask  you  to  go  back  with  me,  if  your  imagination  can  go  back 
so  far,  to  Poland,  and  imagine  a  correspondent  writing  from  there 
to  the  Times  newspaper  such  a  letter  as  this,  headed,  4  Seizure  of  a 
Newspaper.'     I  will  read  it  for  you." 

Mr.  Stronge — "  Is  this  by  way  of  defence  ?" 

O'Donovan  Rossa — "  It  is." 


(J Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life.  43 

The  prisoner  then  read  the  following  allegorical  letter,  which  was 
manifestly  intended  to  put  his  own  case  and  that  of  his  fellow 
prisoners  in  what  he  imagined  to  be  the  most  forcible  manner. 

"  Warsaw,  September  30. 

"On  the  night  of  the  15th  instant,  the  Russian  authorities 
marched  a  company  of  police  and  a  division  of  their  spies  to  Par- 
liament street,  and  halted  at  the  office  of  the  Polish  People  news- 
paper. The  officers  in  command  demanded  admission,  and,  the 
doors  not  being  opened,  they  gave  orders  to  have  them  broken.  A 
search  was  made  through  the  house,  and  none  of  the  officials  being 
found,  all  locks  were  broken,  and  books,  papers,  printing  materials, 
and  all  matters  portable  were  taken  to  the  Russian  garrison. 
While  the  police  were  inside  the  house,  a  company  of  spies  were 
posted  outside,  who  arrested  and  conveyed  to  prison  every  sus- 
picious person  who  was  attracted  to  the  spot  through  curiosity  or 
interest.  Before  next  day  nearly  all  connected  with  the  establish- 
ment— from  the  porter  to  the  proprietor — had  been  arrested;  many 
who  never  entered  the  place  had  also  been  lodged  in  prison.  It  was 
fortunate  for  the  inhabitants  that  no  individual  had  resisted  arrest, 
as  the  commander  of  the  city  had  all  the  military  under  arms,  with 
rifles  loaded  and  capped,  in  case  of  any  resistance. 

"  A  guard  of  police  was  left  in  charge  of  the  office.  They  receive 
all  letters  and  communications  coming  there,  and  transmit  them  to 
the  Kussian  Governor.  It  is  thought  that  the  authorities  expected 
to  seize  information  which  would  lead  them  to  the  capture  of  a  large 
amount  of  military  stores,  as  the  Polish  exiles  in  America  have  been 
talking  of  an  army  of  liberation  for  Poland,  and  of  sending  war 
material  into  the  country.  Simultaneous  with  this  proceeding, 
orders  have  been  issued  to  the  Russian  officials  throughout  Poland 
to  seize  every  military-looking  man  wearing  American  boots;  to  have 
him  searched  and  detained  until  the  Governor  is  communicated 
with,  and  his  will  made  known  regarding  the  prisoner.  In  further- 
ance of  these  orders,  large  bodies  of  police  are  stationed  at  the 
frontier,  on  the  American  side ;  and  every  returning  emigrant  found 
in  possession  of  a  pistol,  a  military  book,  or  any  memento  of  the 
American  war,  is  put  under  arrest.  The  Russian  Government,  some 
time  ago,  gave  the  Poles  a  kind  of  constitution  The  present  pro- 
ceeding is  in  violation  of  that — in  fact,  it  is  a  complete  revocation 
of  it.  The  Governor  of  Poland,  who  must  be  a  Russian,  has,  through 
his  press,  circulated  a  report  that  this  despotic  seizure  of  a  news- 
paper, and  all  men  and  materials  belonging  to  it,  was  made  on  in- 
formation received  from  the  American  Government ;  but  this  is 
doubted  by  many,  as  some  forty  men  are  now  in  prison  a  fortnight, 
and  it  is  known  that  two  of  the  Russian  magistrates  are  in  daily 
communication  with  the  spies  and  professional  swearers,  who  are 
always  at  hand  for  use.  Indeed,  it  is  known  that  one  of  the  latter 
left  St.  Petersburg  a  few  weeks  ago,  telling  an  acquaintance  of  his 
that  he  was  going  to  Warsaw  to  do  a  bit  of  business.     Though  it  is* 


4A  O Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

a  principle  of  law  in  many  countries  that  a  man  charged  with  a  crime 
is  presumed  innocent  until  proved  guilty,  it  is  different  in  Warsaw. 
The  moment  a  man  is  arrested  on  a  political  charge  he  is  presumed 
guilty  and  treated  accordingly.  Though  he  might  not  be  brought 
before  the  public  tribunals  for  four,  eight,  or  twelve  months,  there 
is  no  bail  taken  for  his  appearance;  he  is  sent  back  to  his  dungeon 
and  treated  as  the  caprice  of  the  Governor  of  Poland  may  suggest. 
The  men  in  this  case  have  been  in  solitary  confinement  all  hours  of 
the  day  and  night,  save  two.  During  one  of  these  they  leave  their 
cells  in  the  morning  to  wash,  and  the  other,  at  noon,  to  walk  about 
a  small  yard.  This  time  the  guards  are  doubled  on  them  to  prevent 
their  talking,  and  they  must  keep  a  certain  distance  from  each  other. 
They  are  also  prevented  from  having  any  communication  with  the 
outside  world. 

"They  are  to  be  removed  from  one  prison  to  another  to-day,  in 
order  to  appear  before  the  officials  who  have  been  preparing  the 
charge  against  them.  The  prisons  in  Warsaw  are  generally  governed 
by  the  Municipal  Council  of  the  city;  but  it  is  the  privilege  of  the 
Russian  Governor  to  take  the  government  of  them  into  his  own 
hands,  which  he  generally  does  on  occasions  of  this  kind.  The 
newspaper  writers  of  Poland  would  be  loud  in  their  denunciations 
of  such  despotism  if  they  saw  the  English  Government  acting  this 
way  in  Ireland,  or  the  Austrian  Government  in  Hungary;  but  Rus- 
sian influence  and  patronage  blinds  them  to  every  act  of  tyranny  in 
their  own  unfortunate  country." 

You  should  see  how  the  paid  officials  were  biting  their  lips  as  I 
was  reading  this.  They  attempted  to  silence  me  a  few  times,  but  I 
persisted  in  my  right  to  defend  myself  in  the  manner  most  pleasing 
to  me.  Before  we  came  to  this  court  it  was,  of  course,  decided  by 
the  authorities  that  we  were  to  be  sent  back  to  prison  again,  and 
back  we  were  sent,  to  await  trial  on  some  future  occasion. 

One  day  the  Sheriff  of  the  County  came  to  the  prison,  and  I, 
with  some  others,  were  brought  before  him.  He  unfolded  his  parch- 
ment, and  gave  us  notice  that  the  charge  of  Treason  Felony  against 
us  at  first  was  withdrawn,  and  that  we  were  to  be  tried  on  the  29th 
of  November  for  High  Treason.  On  this  occasion  I  experienced 
that  ugly  sensation  which  men  fond  of  the  world  are  supposed  to 
experience  when  they,  in  health,  are  told  they  must  die.  1 
hanged  myself  on  that  day,  and  what  harm  if  I  say  that  I  did  not 
like  the  operation,  and  that  I  felt  myself  a  bit  of  a  coward.  I  went 
through  the  whole  ceremony  in  imagination,  and  survived  it ;  and 
if  the  reality  of  the  performance  had  to  be  gone  through  afterwards, 
I  believe  I  would  have  gone  through  it  well,  even  though  it  would 
have  killed  me.  The  scare  was  past;  I  had  died,  and  I  felt  able  to 
go  through  the  rest  defiantly.  Always  make  up  your  mind  for  the 
worst  and  you  will  be  able  to  go  through  anything  that  comes  your 
way  in  a  better  manner. 

Day  by  day,  for  two  months  in  Richmond  Prison,  we  were  put 


0>  Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life.  45 

through  the  same  routine  of  solitary  confinement  and  an  hour's 
solitary  exercise  in  the  open  air,  save  and  except  that,  instead  of 
being  exercised  with  my  companions  walking  five  yards  apart  around 
a  ring,  I  was  put  into  a  separate  yard  and  exercised  by  myself. 

During  the  first  fortnight  an  attorney  named  Ennis  had  been 
attending  upon  us.  He  had  a  large  business  in  the  police  courts 
and  feared  this  would  be  injured  by  continuing  to  be  our  solicitor. 
While  with  us  he  did  the  best  he  could,  but  if  the  magistrates  in  the 
courts  he  pleaded  in  took  it  into  their  heads  to  be  adverse  to  the 
success  of  his  suits,  they  could  ruin  his  reputation  and  himself  in  a 
short  time,  and  we  thought  it  was  only  reasonable  to  allow  him,  at 
his  own  request,  to  withdraw  from  our  defence.  He  told  us  the  best 
attorneys  we  could  employ,  and  we  were  about  writing  to  some  of 
them  when  I  received  a  letter  from  Councellor  P.  J.  Smyth,  now 
member  of  Parliament  for  Westmeath,  offering  us  his  professional 
assistance.  On  this  particular  subject  our  jailers  gave  me  permis- 
sion to  consult  Mr.  O'Leary  in  their  presence,  and  he  decided  I  may 
write  to  Mr.  Smyth  accepting  his  kind  offer.  I  wrote,  and  in  a  few 
days  after  I  had  a  reply  from  him  stating  that  he  called  to  see  us 
and  was  refused  admission  at  the  prison  gate.  I  thought  this  was  a 
monstrous  thing.  I  sent  for  the  governor  and  asked  for  an  explan- 
ation, and  I  was  told  that  the  authorities  would  not  allow  Mr. 
Smyth  to  have  any  communication  with  us  ;  he  was  a  suspicious 
character,  not  considered  very  favorable  to  the  maintenance  of 
English  rule  in  Ireland,  I  suppose.  He  sent  me  word  again,  saying 
as  he  was  denied  permission  to  assist  us  himself,  he  would  recom- 
mend to  us  the  assistance  of  Mr.  John  Lawless,  an  attorney  on  whom 
we  could  rely.  I  wrote  in  accceptance  of  it,  and  Mr.  Lawless  was 
introduced  to  u?. 

The  time  of  James  Stephens'  release  from  prison  came,  and  as 
much  has  been  said  of  that  by  many,  I  may  have  a  word  to  say 
about  it  too.  It  has  been  stated  in  a  "Life  of  James  Stephens," 
published  in  America,  by  some  one  that  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  him,  that  the  basis  of  his  escape  from  Richmond  was  an  agree- 
ment with  a  jailer  to  effect  it  for  a  sum  of  £300.  Now,  I  do  not 
believe  one  word  of  this  ;  but  I  believe  that  the  men  who  effected 
his  escape,  and  who  could  as  easily  effect  the  escape  of  the  whole  of 
us  at  the  time,  were  men  who  would  not  move  one  inch  in  the  matter 
for  mercenary  motives ;  and  I  am  able  to  state  that  they  got  no 
money,  or  made  no  money  agreement  for  his  release. 

The  day  before  that  of  his  escape,  one  of  the  prison  officers,  in  pass- 
ing my  cell,  whispered  to  me,  "  The  little  man  will  be  out  to-morrow 
night."  "  Are  you  sure  of  it  ?"  asked  I.  "  Certain,"  replied  he, 
and  added,  "  Have  you  any  message  to  send  him  ?"  to  which  I  an- 
swered, "No." 

Next  day  our  attorney,  Mr.  Lawless,  visited  us,  and  as  the  time 
of  trial  was  approaching,  it  was  deemed  necessary  that  Mr.  Stephens 
and  Mr.  Duffy  should  meet  Mr.  O'Leary,  Mr.  Luby  and  me.     The 


46  (J Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life. 

solicitor  made  the  application  to  the  Governor  of  the  prison,  and 
the  Governor  allowed  Mr.  Duffy  to  be  brought  to  our  consultation 
room,  which  was  Mr.  Luby's  cell ;  but  Mr.  Stephens  would  not  be 
allowed  to  approach  us.  We  remained  in  conversation  for  half  an 
hour.  Duffy  whispered  to  me  that  Stephens  was  going*  out  that 
night.  I  whispered  it  to  John  O'Leary,  and,  as  we  were  parting, 
Mr.  Lawless  said  he  would  renew  his  application  for  an  interview 
between  Stephens  and  us  next  morning.  "We  said  the  meeting  was 
absolutely  necessary,  inasmuch  as  our  trials  were  to  come  off  on  the 
following  Monday. 

We  shook  hands  and  parted.  In  my  cell  I  could  not  help  dwell- 
ing on  the  meditated  escape.  I  thought  I  could  keep  awake  all 
night,  and  keep  my  ears  open  to  hear  the  least  noise  ;  but  the 
powers  of  sleep  stole  a  march  upon  me,  and  kept  me  entranced  in 
the  midst  of  soldiers  and  jailers  and  United  Irishmen,  till  the  real 
jailers  came  to  my  cell  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  woke 
me  by  the  noise  they  made  in  opening  my  door  to  see  if  I  was  safe. 
The  alarm  was  given,  and  the  question  now  with  me  was — "  Did  he 
escape,  or  was  he  caught  in  the  attempt  ?" 

The  noise  and  bustle,  and  the  continual  running  of  jailers 
about  the  wards  could  not  enable  me  to  decide  one  way  or  another, 
and,  knocking  violently  at  my  iron  gate,  I  told  the  officer  who  was 
passing  by  that  this  noise  was  preventing  me  from  sleeping,  and 
that  I  should  report  it  to  the  Governor  in  the  morning.  One  word 
borrowed  another;  my  keeper's  observations  told  me  something 
wonderful  had  happened,  and  I  concluded  the  bird  had  flown. 

At  eight  o'clock  next  morning  Mr.  Lawless  visited  and  inform- 
ed us  of  the  terrible  news  of  Mr.  Stephens'  escape,  at  which  I 
opened  my  eyes  and  mouth  in  amazement.  We  talked  of  the  com- 
ing Commission,  and  of  the  propriety  of  having  no  counsel  to  de- 
fend us  in  case  the  Crown  packed  the  juries  and  persisted  in  pur- 
suing towards  us  a  course  against  which  our  counsel  were  battling. 
This  was  agreed  on  between  Mr.  O'Leary,  Mr.  Luby  and  myself. 
A  part  of  the  programme  was  that  counsel  were  to  throw  up  their 
briefs  if  certain  just  things  were  not  allowed  by  the  judges;  but 
this  they  could  not  agree  to  do  when  things  came  to  a  crisis,  and 
the  project  of  no  defence  was  given  up. 

Thomas  Clarke  Luby  was  the  first  man  tried,  or  rather  convict- 
ed, for  political  trial  in  Ireland  is  a  farce.  John  O'Leary  was  the 
next ;  and  the  putting  of  them  through  the  portals  of  twenty  years' 
penal  servitude  occupied  four  days  for  each.  I  was  called  up  after 
them,  and  as  I  was  placed  in  the  dock,  the  usual  question  was  put, 
if  I  was  ready  for  trial,  to  which  my  counsel  answered  "Yes."  "I 
beg  your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  said  I,  at  which  the  counsel  started, 
opened  their  eyes,  and  adjusted  their  spectacles.  "  My  lords,"  con- 
tinued I,  addressing  myself  to  the  judges;  and  here  the  gentle- 
men of  the  long  robes  looked  at  me  forbiddingly,  as  if  I  should  not 
speak.     "  My  lords,  I  had  papers  prepared  for  my  counsel  con- 


U  Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life.  47 

nected  with  my  defence,  and  these  have  been  seized  by  Mr.  Price, 
the  Governor  of  Kilmainham  prison,  and  would  not  be  returned 
to  me.  It  is  reasonable  for  me  to  suppose  that  there  are  some 
channels  of  communication  between  Kilmainham  prison  and  the 
Castle  of  Dublin,  and  I  suspect  that  these  papers  have  been  put 
into  the  hands  of  the  Crown  prosecutors.  I  now  ask  for  them, 
and  I  am  not  prepared  to  go  on  with  my  trial  until  I  get  them." 
There  was  a  kind  of  murmur  in  the  court.  My  counsel  looked  as 
if  they  were  relieved  from  the  imprudence  of  my  talking.  Judge 
Keogh  asked  where  was  the  Governor  of  Kilmainham,  and,  as  he 
was  not  present,  it  was  ordered  he  be  sent  for.  The  work  of  the 
law  was  brought  to  a  stand-still;  prosecutors  and  judges  looked  at 
each  other  a  moment,  and  the  question  was  asked,  "What  are  we 
to  do  my  lord  ?"  and  the  lord  decided  that  the  prisoner  O'Donovan 
Rossa  be  put  back,  and  another  prisoner  be  brought  forward.  The 
Attorney-General  and  the  Solicitor-General,  and  the  host  of  assist- 
ant generals  that  were  around,  held  a  consultation,  and  then  ad- 
dressed the  court  to  the  effect  that  as  the  case  of  Michael  Moore 
was  a  short  one,  they  would  put  him  on  trial;  but  he  was  not 
brought  down  to  court  that  day,  and  the  van  would  have  to  be 
sent  for  him.  There  would  have  to  be  a  delay  of  an  hour  or  so, 
and  during  this  time  the  court  took  a  recess. 

I  was  taken  back  to  the  waiting  apartment,  and  told  my  story 
to  Charles  Kickham,  Charles  O'Connell  and  James  O'Connor,  who, 
with  me,  were  selected  as  the  most  deserving  victims  after  Thomas 
Clarke  Luby  and  John  O'Leary.  I  told  them  I  had  other  plans  in 
my  head  that  would  keep  them  from  being  convicted  at  this  Com- 
mission anyway,  and  we  had  a  laugh  over  the  matter.  Michael 
Moore  was  sentenced  to  ten  years'  penal  servitude  next  day,  and  I 
was  again  brought  forward. 

I  got  my  papers  in  open  court  from  Governor  Price.  Judge 
Keogh  administered  to  him  a  rebuke,  and  told  him  it  was  quite 
improper  for  him  to  make  any  use  of  the  papers  of  any  prisoner, 
but  this  impropriety  afterwards  appeared  to  have  been  legalized,  if 
we  may  judge  so  from  the  number  of  times  during  the  succeeding 
trials  that  Governor  Price  seized  upon  manuscripts  of  prisoners  to 
have  their  handwriting  identified  and  sworn  to,  on  many  occasions, 
I  believe,  before  Judge  Keogh  himself. 

When  I  was  put  forward  a  second  time,  and  asked  if  I  was  now 
ready  for  trial,  I  showed  that  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  have  wit- 
nesses who  were  mentioned  in  these  papers  of  mine  that  were 
seized.  Mr.  Price  had  them  in  his  possession  a  week,  and  during 
this  week  I  could  do  nothing  towards  preparing  for  my  defence. 

The  judges  and  the  prosecutors  could  not  get  over  the  reason- 
ableness of  my  demand.  The  black  van  was  put  into  requisition 
again.  I  was  put  back;  there  was  a  repetition  of  the  recess;  and 
another  short  case  was  got  in — John  Haltigan,  the  printer  of  the 
Irish  People.     It  was  now  Friday  evening,  and  I  thought  I  had  a 


48  (?  Donovan  Rosso' s  Prison  Life. 

fair  field  to  keep  the  court  engaged  till  Thursday,  when  the  judges 
were  advertised  to  open  the  Commission  in  Cork  city.  Kick- 
ham,  O'Connell,  O'Connor,  and  myself  were  brought  to  the  Court 
on  Saturday  morning.  Mr.  Haltigan  was  sentenced  to  seven  years, 
before  one  o'clock,  and  a  third  time  I  was  brought  into  the  dock. 
The  High  Sheriff  came  into  us  a  few  times  during  the  forenoon, 
and,  in  the  blandest  tones,  wished  to  know  from  me  if  I  were 
ready  for  trial  that  day.  I  knew  he  was  sent  by  the  "  big  wigs"  to 
worm  me;  but,  while  I  was  very  civil  in  answering  his  questions,  I 
made  the  answers  convey  as  little  as  possible,  and  kept  my  mind 
to  myself,  which  all  men — and,  indeed,  all  women,  too — ought  to 
do  in  critical  times,  if  they  have  any  mind  worth  keeping. 

The  judges  asked  me  now  if  I  were  ready  for  trial,  and  when  I 
said  yes  there  was  a  rustling  of  papers  and  a  pleasant  appearance 
of  business  upon  every  face,  except  the  faces  of  those  who  were  sure 
that  my  doom  was  already  sealed. 

One  official  proceeded  to  call  the  jury  panel,  and  one  by  one, 
as  names  were  called  whose  owners  could  not  be  relied  upon  to 
bring  in  a  verdict  of  guilty,  the  jurors  were  told  to  "  stand  aside." 
My  counsel  were  challenging  on  my  behalf,  and  I  was  twenty  times 
on  the  point  of  telling  them  to  desist — to  withdraw,  and  leave  me 
to  my  fate;  but  "  propriety,"  or  awful  respect  for  "the  majesty  of 
the  law"  prevented  me.  I  was  most  anxious  to  assert  and  vindicate 
the  right  of  every  man  who  was  called  there  to  act  there — in  a 
word,  I  was  mad  to  have  something  to  say  to  this  jury-packing, 
when  I  was  to  be  packed  off  myself  by  it;  but  my  tongue  was  tied 
by  my  having  counsel  to  act  for  me,  and  this  was  making  me  feel 
uncomfortable  with  myself. 

The  jury  was  duly  packed,  the  first  witness  was  called  and  put 
through,  the  second  witness  was  examined  and  cross-examined,  my 
discontent  was  growing,  and  before  the  closing  of  the  day's  work, 
when  I  attempted  to  say  something  and  was  silenced,  I  resolved  to 
throw  up  my  counsel  and  to  commence  my  own  defence  on  Monday 
morning. 

Again  when  I  stood  before  the  judges,  and  when  they  and  the 
lawyers  were  proceeding,  in  the  usual  legal  form,  to  "  try"  me,  I 
handed  in  a  paper  requesting  the  counsellors  to  withdraw  from 
my  defence.     The  newpaper  report  of  the  trial  says  that — 

"  Pierce  Nagle  was  sworn,  and  was  about  to  be  examined  by  the 
Solicitor-General,  when  the  prisoner  interrupted  the  proceedings 
by  saying  that  he  wished  to  address  a  few  words  to  the  court. 

"  Judge  Keogh  said  that  the  interruption  could  not  be  permitted. 
If  the  prisoner  had  anything  to  say  he  should  communicate  it 
through  his  counsel. 

"Mr.  Dowse  said  that  counsel  had  no  control  over  what  the 
prisoner  wished  to  say.  He  understood  that  he  wished  to  inform 
the  court  that  he  did  not  desire  to  be  defended  by  counsel. 

"  The  Prisoner — I  have  seen  the  course  the  Crown  has  adopted  in 


O  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  49 

proceeding  with  my  trial.  I  heard  the  jury  being  called,  and  I 
heard  the  words  "  stand  by"  to  thirty  or  forty  gentlemen.  What 
did  that  mean  ?     It  meant  that  the  Crown  was  determined — 

"  Judge  Keogh — We  cannot  permit  this. 

"  The  Prisoner — I  believe  this  trial  is  a  legal  farce,  and  I  won't  be 
a  party  to  it  by  being  represented  by  counsel. 

Mr.  Dowse  said  they  were  quite  ready  to  conduct  the  prisoner's 
defence,  but,  under  the  circumstances,  they  would  at  once  with- 
draw. 

"  Judge  Keogh — I  have  to  express  my  regret  that  the  prisoner 
has  not  left  himself  in  the  hands  of  the  able  counsel  who  has  hither- 
to defended  the  prisoners. 

"  The  Prisoner — I  fully  concur  with  your  lordship  with  regard  to 
the  ability  of  the  counsel.  I  want  to  know  what  are  the  papers 
and  documents  on  which  the  Crown  will  rely  for  my  conviction. 

"  The  examination  of  Nagle  was  being  again  proceeded  with  when 
Judge  Keogh  suggested  lhat  Mr.  Lawless  should  take  a  seat  near 
the  prisoner,  so  as  to  be  able  to  assist  him  with  the  documents. 

"The  Prisoner — I  don't  want  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Lawless  at  all, 
I  only  want  the  documents." 

But  if  I  did  not  want  the  assistance  of  counsel  Judge  Keogh 
wanted  I  should  have  it;  for  in  having  it  I  was  precluded  from 
being  anything  in  the  play  but  a  silent,  foolish-looking  spectator. 
"His  lordship"  quickly  silenced  me  as  above  when  I  was  going  to 
tell  him  I  would  do  my  own  defending,  and  now  he  ordered  Mr. 
Lawless  to  sit  by  my  side  to  instruct  me.  I  said  I  did  not  want 
his  instruction,  but  it  was  no  use.  Mr.  Lawless  took  his  place  con- 
venient to  me,  and  I  commenced  to  cross-examine  Nagle. 

He  was  swearing  to  my  handwriting  in  an  account  book;  Chabot, 
an  expert  was  also  after  having  been  examined  as  to  it,  and  as  I  was 
to  have  this  latter  gentleman  examined  again  I  was  putting  Nagle 
through  every  line  of  the  writing.  There  was  also  in  the  book  the 
handwriting  of  James  O'Connor,  Dan  Downing  and  Con  O'Mahony. 
The  expert  and  the  informer  swore  contradictory  things — what  one 
pronounced  mine  another  pronounced  another's,  and  I  had  great 
fun  with  Judge  Keogh  in  the  length  of  time  I  kept  Nagle  at  the 
handwriting  of  the  different  entries.  His  lordship  repeatedly  asked 
had  I  not  examined  enough,  and  I  repeatedly  said  "no  "  At 
length  he  decided  I  should  go  no  further,  and  I  decided  that  I 
wo  aid,  because  that  when  any  book  or  paper  was  put  in  evidence 
against  a  prisoner,  it  was  the  prisoner's  legal  right  to  go  through 
the  whole  book  or  paper  if  he  desired.  I  asked  that  Chabot  and 
other  witnesses  be  put  out  of  court  while  any  witness  was  under 
examination.  They  were  put  out,  but  I  afterwards  learned  that 
some  of  them  were  placed  so  that  they  could  hear  what  was  going  on. 

Going  back  to  the  newspaper  reports — 

"  The  Prisoner  asks — As  I  intend  to  examine  Mr.  Nagle  as  to  the 
handwriting  and  the  signature,  and  as  there  was  an  expert  here, 


50  O  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

I  wish  that  lie  would  be  put  out  of  court,  and  also  any  witness  you 
intend  to  examine  in  corroboration  of  what  he  says. 

Judge  Keogh — Certainly.     Is  Mr.  Chabot  here  ? 

The  Solicitor-General — He  is  not  in  court.  He  is  in  the  office, 
my  lord. 

Judge  Keogh — See  that  all  the  Crown  witnesses  are  kept  out 
of  court.  | 

Prisoner — And  those  detectives  that  the  Crown  intend  to  es4l 
amine,  so  far  as  they  have  to  do  with  the  corroboration. 

Judge  Keogh — They  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  case. 

Prisoner — Oh    they  have,  my  lord. 

Judge  Keogh — I  don't  think  they  have." 

All  the  papers  of  the  Irish  People  office  were  seized.  The  Gov- 
ernment selected  as  many  of  them  as  would  tell  against  us;  but 
there  were  others  there  that  would  explain  and  clear  away  many 
things,  and  these  I  wanted  to  get  for  my  defence,  but  could  not  get 
them.  I  contended  that  I  should  have  for  my  use  as  many  of  the 
documents  as  did  not  contain  matter  which  the  Crown  could  urge 
as  criminatory  against  us.  The  judge  quibbled  and  lied  in  saying 
that  "  all  the  documents  required  by  the  prisoner  should  be  forth- 
coming at  the  proper  time;"  for  though  the  prisoner  was  four  days 
on  trial  he  never  got  one  of  them.     Here  is  the  passage : 

"  The  prisoner  stated  that  there  were  certain  letters  found  at  the 
Irish  People  office  which  he  would  wish  to  see,  particularly  a  busi- 
ness letter  which  would  explain  charges  against  him  now. 

Judge  Keogh — You  will  have  any  letters  that  you  require,  or  that 
were  produced  by  the  Crown. 

The  prisoner  observed  that  he  had  heard  Smollen  stato  the 
other  evening  that  there  were  letters  found  in  the  Irish  People 
office  which  might  not  be  of  use  to  the  Crown,  but  which  might  be 
of  use  to  the  prisoner. 

Judge  Keogh  intimated  that  all  documents  required  by  the 
prisoner  would  be  forthcoming  at  the  proper  time. 

Nagle  was  one  time  discharged  from  the  Irish  People  office  by 
James  O'Connor.  He  applied  to  Mr.  Luby  to  be  taken  back.  Mr. 
Luby  had  him  restored  ;  and  as  I  was  cross  examining  the  inform- 
er as  to  the  state  of  his  conscience  in  swearing  away  Mr.  Luby's 
liberty,  he  felt  a  bit  puzzled,  and  hesitated  before  giving  me  a  reply. 
I  repeated  the  question  two  or  three  times  to  no  effect,  when  the 
court  was  startled  from  its  solemnity,  and  myself  somewhat  re- 
freshed, by  what  the  following  describes  : 

"  Prisoner. — Do  you  believe  in  your  conscience  that  in  swearing 
against  Mr.  Luby,  who  treated  you  so  kindly,  you  did  anything 
that  you  must  answer  for  to  Almighty  God  some  day  1 
"  (The  witness  hesitated  for  some  time.) 
"  A  voice  in  the  Gallery — Answer. 
"  Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Who  spoke  in  the  gaH«F7  ? 
"  Crier — This  is  the  gentleman,  my  lord. 


O  Donovan  Rosscis  Prison  Life.  51 

"  Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Let  that  person  be  removed  from  Court 
instantly,  and  do  not  allow  him  in  again." 

The  fight  with  the  judges  as  to  my  right  to  have  Nagle's  opin- 
ion on  every  item  of  my  private  account  book  is  described  pretty 
accurately  in  the  papers  of  the  time.  My  object  was  to  examine 
Chabot  after  Nagle  on  the  same  items  and  to  show  the  jury,  or  at 
least  the  public,  the  contradictions  of  the  two  witnesses,  but  I  was 
not  allowed  to  carry  out  my  object. 

"  Judge  Keogh  again  interposing,  told  the  prisoner  he  thought 
the  line  of  cross-examination  he  was  following  was  not  calculated 
to  serve  him.  He  had  been  reluctant  to  interrupt  him,  because  he 
desired  to  afford  him  every  opportunity  or  cross-examining  the 
witness." 

"  The  prisoner,  however,  continued  his  cross-examination  of 
the  witness  in  relation  to  the  book. 

The  witness  mentioned  other  articles  which  he  believed  to  be  in 
the  handwriting  of  the  prisioner.  The  first  ten  entries  are  in  the 
prisoner's  handwriting;  also,  the  thirteen  last  entries  on  same 
page. 

The  prisoner  was  continuing  to  cross-examine  the  witness  when 

Judge  Keogh  said — I  have  allowed  the  greatest  possible  latitude 
— an  extravagant  latitude — to  the  examination.  Only  a  portion  of 
this  book  has  been  put  in  evidence  by  the  Crown.  You  have  gone 
through  a  large  number  of  entries,  in  it,  merely  asking  the  witness 
questions  as  to  the  handwriting  of  these  entries.  The  Court  think 
that  you  have  gone  far  enough  in  this  line  of  cross-examination,  and 
I  cannot  allow  the  public  time  to  be  wasted  with  it. 

The  Prisoner — When  a  book  or  any  writing  has  been  put  in  as 
evidence  once,  I  believe  the  whole  of  the  book  or  writing  can  be 
examined.     I  believe  this,  my  lord. 

Judge  Keogh — If  at  any  time  you  (the  prisoner)  during  the 
trial,  wish  to  put  any  relevant  question  with  regard  to  this  book 
you  can  have  the  witness  recalled.  But  I  now,  once  again,  tell 
you  that  I  will  not  allow  the  public  time  to  be  wasted  by  irrelevant 
questions. 

Prisoner — The  public  time  is  mine  as  well  as  yours,  my  lord. 
(To  the  witness) — Look  at  that  writing. 

Judge  Keogh — Don't  look  at  that  writing. 

Prisoner — Do  you  see  that  entry  about  the  Midland  Kail- 
way  ? 

Judge  Keogh — State  the  question  to  the  Court  you  wish  to  put, 
and  not  to  the  witness. 

Prisoner — I  am  bound  to  examine  the  witness  myself. 

Judge  Fitzgerald — I  beg  your  pardon.  My  brother  and  myself 
are  both  satisfied  that  this  is  a  new  attempt  to  waste  the  public 
time,  and  we  cannot  permit  it  to  be  continued. 

Prisoner — Well,  I  am  not  satisfied.     Twenty  years  is  a  long 


52  O  Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life. 

time,  and  I  want  to  spend  a  couple  of  days  as  best  I  can.     I  want 
to  get  the  rule  of  the  court  in  writing. 

Judge  Keogh — You  have  already  heard  the  rule  of  the  court, 
and  we  will  not  allow  it  to  be  carried  on  a  moment  longer. 

The  prisoner  again  essayed  to  put  to  the  witness  several  ques- 
tions in  refereuce  to  entries  in  the  book,  when  Judge  Keogh  inter- 
posed by  saying  that  if  the  prisoner  did  not  put  relevant  questions 
the  witness  should  retire." 

At  another  stage  of  the  proceedings  it  was  necessary  for  me  to 
have  those  papers  which  Judge  Keogh,  a  few  days  previously,  said 
I  should  have ;  but  on  my  applying  for  them  I  found  I  could  not  get 
them.  The  judge  got  out  of  this  part  of  the  business  by  saying  he 
had  made  the  order,  and  that  is  all  he  could  do.  Possibly  the 
Crown  Counsel,  in  the  meantime,  examined  the  documents,  and, 
finding  that  they  would  be  useful  to  me,  held  them  back. 

"  Mr.  Charles  Chabot  was  examined  by  Mr.  Barry  as  to  whether 
or  not  several  documents  produced  to  him  were  in  the  handwriting 
of  the  prisoner,  and  also  as  to  whether  or  not  his  handwriting  was 
attached  to  the  deed,  and  to  certain  checks. 

The  prisoner  said  he  could  not  cross-examine  this  witness  with- 
out the  aid  of  certain  documents  which  had  been  seized  at  the  Irish 
People  office. 

Judge  Keogh — Do  you  decline  to  proceed  with  your  cross-exam- 
ination now? 

Prisoner — I  don't  decline  to  proceed  with  my  cross-examination; 
but  you  have  seized  papers  belonging  to  me  which  I  require. 

Judge  Keogh  told  the  prisoner  he  was  entitled  to  ask  the  wit- 
ness any  questions  he  thought  proper  now  that  were  relevant  to  his 
defence.  Any  documents  that  the  Crown  had  they  were  ready  to 
produce. 

The  Solicitor-General — We  are,  my  lord. 

The  prisoner  said  that  there  were  documents  in  the  Irish  People 
office  that  were  now  in  the  possesion  of  the  Crown,  and  which  were 
necessary  for  the  purpose  of  cross-examining  the  witness. 

Mr.  Lawless  said  that  the  documents  the  prisoner  referred  to 
were  those  named  in  the  order  made  by  his  lordship  on  Thursday 
night.  Notwithstanding  that  order  these  documents  had  not  been 
given  up  to  him  (Mr.  Lawless). 

Judge  Keogh  said  he  could  only  make  the  order. 

The  prisoner  said  he  referred  to  the  documents  sworn  by  the 
detective  as  being  still  in  the  Irish  People  office. 

Judge  Keogh — The  constable  swore  that  he  left  a  heap  of  papers 
and  letters  in  the  Irish  People  office  ;  but  they  could  have  no  con- 
nection with  the  examination  of  the  present  witness. 

Prisoner — I  know  that  they  can  have  connection  with  the  exam- 
ination of  this  witness,  and  I  want  them. 

Judge  Keogh — You  must  go  on  with  the  cross-examination  of 
the  witness,  or  he  will  be  allowed  to  retire." 


0 'Donovan  Bossd's  Prison  Life.  53 

And  here  is  another  passage,  showing  how  I  was  shut  up: 

"  The  prisoner  then  examined  the  witness  at  considerable  length 
as  to  the  interviews  he  had  with  Nagle,  until 

Judge  Keogh  again  interposed,  and  stated  that  it  was  trifling 
with  justice  to  be  occupying  the  time  of  the  court  in  that  manner. 

Hour  by  hour  and  day  by  day  the  battle  went  on  ;  and,  reading 
over  the  proceedings  of  the  trial  now  in  order  to  get  extracts  to 
illustrate  some  remembrances  I  have  of  it,  I  am  tempted  to  give 
more  than  I  intended.  It  may  be  stale  to  many  who  read  the  papers 
at  the  time;  but  how  many  youngsters  are  grown  up  since  to  whom 
it  may  be  intereresting?  Besides,  if  this  book  is  ever  read  by  any 
one  after  my  day — and  where  is  the  book-writer  who  does  not  think 
his  book  will  live  ? — these  lengthy  passages  about  my  trial  may  not 
be  the  most  uninteresting  portion  of  it  to  the  reader  who  reads 
me — dead. 

After  the  examination  of  many  witnesses,  the  papers  say  : 

"  The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  address  the-  jury.  He  said  it 
was  hard  for  him  to  say  anything  to  them.  No  overt  act  had  been 
charged  against  him,  and  no  criminal  act  had  been  proved  against 
him.  When  he  heard  the  Attorney-General,  on  last  Saturday,  tell 
thirty  gentlemen  to  *  stand  aside,'  he  considered  that  he  (the  At- 
torney -General)  looked  upon  them  as  persons  who  would  not  bring 
in  a  verdict  of  guilty;  and  he  also  took  it  for  granted  that  when  the 
jury  was  sworn  the  Attorney-General  looked  upon  those  sworn  as 
men  who  would  bring  in  the  verdict.  That  observation  was  not  com- 
plimentary to  the  jury,  but  he  could  not  help  it.  As  to  trial  by 
jury,  it  might  be  the  jury's  duty  to  give  a  verdict  of  guilty,  but  it 
was  also  their  duty  to  protect  the  prisoner  from  tyranny.  The  Exec- 
utive Government  were  taking  harsh  measures  against  them.  As 
they  had  outraged  all  law,  and  had  recourse  to  dark  courses  of  des- 
potism, the  jury  should  protect  the  prisoners,  and  not  condemn  a " 
man  to  penal  servitude  when  nothing  that  was  wrong  was  proved  to 
have  been  done.  If  a  man  should  say  that  Ireland,  Hungary,  or 
Poland  should  be  free — but  they  could  not  be  free  unless  they 
fought  for  freedom — would  he  be  guilty  of  '  treason-felony  V  A 
judge  might  feel  it  his  duty  to  tell  them  that  if  a  man  said  so,  he 
should  be  found  guilty;  but,  in  that  case,  trial  by  jury  was  a  mere 
bulwark  of  tyranny  instead  of  the  safeguard  of  liberty. 

"  The  great  crime  against  him,  he  said,  were  the  words  *  Jer' 
and  '  Rossa,'  and  having  known  Stephens,  O'Mahony,  O'Leary,  and 
Luby,  whom  he  felt  it  an  honor  to  know.  Having  then  alluded  to 
Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald's  address  to  the  jury  in  one  of  the  cases  dis- 
posed of,  in  which  his  lordship  said  that  the-documents  found  with  the 
prisoner  at  Queenstown  disclosed  the  object  of  his  mission  to  America, 
the  prisoner  continued  to  observe  that  no  matter  who  it  was  had  made 
the  address  to  the  jury,  there  was  never  such  a  jumbling  statement 
made,  nor  one  more  devoid  of  foundation  or  contrary  to  evidence. 
The  testimony  of  Nagle  and  Dawson  the  previous  day  showed  there 


54  O Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life. 

was  evidence  to  prove  he  could  not  have  lost  those  documents  at  all. 

"  He  would  now  read  an  extract  from  a  speech  of  Mr.  Potter  on 
the  subject  of  the  Jamaica  massacres  and  the  execution  of  Mr.  Gor- 
don. The  prisoner  read  the  passage,  which  was  to  the  effect  that 
in  order  to  justify  the  massacre  of  the  black  population  in  Jamaica, 
calumnies  were  published  of  them  representing  them  as  contem- 
plating hideous  crimes.  The  same  course  was  adopted  during  the 
Indian  Mutiny;  the  soldiers  were  worked  up  to  the  perpetration  of 
acts  of  cruel  barbarity  by  accounts  of  insurgent  crimes,  but  it  turned 
out  that  many  of  the  accounts  were  false,  and  he  (Mr.  Potter)  took 
it  the  same  was  now  the  case  in  Jamaica.  He  (the  prisoner)  told 
the  jury  the  same  was  the  case  with  regard  to  the  statements  made 
about  Fenianism  in  Ireland.  On  this  subject  he  read  an  article 
from  the  Irish  People  newspaper.  In  this  article  it  was  stated  that 
conquest  was  always  accompanied  by  calumny.  The  conqueror  was 
never  contented  with  his  victory,  but  represented  his  slave  as  a  dog 
in  order  that  he  might  flog  him  like  a  dog.  Their  English  masters 
loudly  proclaimed  that  the  Irish  were  no  better  than  savages — that 
what  appeared  oppression  of  them  was  simple  justice.  The  Eng- 
lish even  affirmed  that  their  Irish  slaves  were  not  human  beings. 
They  denied  the  claim  of  the  Irish  to  humanity,  the  better  to  re- 
duce them  to  the  condition  of  beasts.  Forty  of  the  Cromwellian 
soldiers  were  actually  found  to  swear  that  a  number  of  the  Irish 
killed  at  Cashel  were  found  to  have  tails.  The  jury  were  sitting 
there  for  no  other  purpose  than  that  of  the  Attorney- General 
pointing  out  to  them  the  prisoners  who  had  tails.  The  Irish  Peo- 
ple newspaper  had  striven  to  put  an  end  to  religious  differences, 
and  unite  all  religions  against  England.  The  beautiful  policy  of 
the  English  Government  has  been  to  use  religion  for  the  purpose 
of  conquest.  It  was  amusing  to  see  how  the  Government  could 
get  Dr.  Cullen  and  Dr.  Trench,  and  all  the  doctors  to  abuse  the 
Fenians. 

He  (Kossa)  wrote  a  letter  to  Sir  Robert  Peel  last  week  about 
procuring  him  proper  facilities  for  a  trial,  and  suggested  to  him 
that  he  should  resign  his  situation  if  he  had  not  the  power  of  cor- 
recting these  things — and,  by-and-bye,  he  did  resign.  The  prison- 
er then  proceeded  to  read  the  following  extracts  from  his  letter : 

"I  am  keeping  you  too  long,  Sir  Robert;  but  ere  I  let  you  go 
I'll  take  you  to  have  a  look  at  the  Piece  that  has  been  prepared  for 
the  end  of  the  Play.  Judge  Keogh  is  to  try  us.  Well,  you  know 
— or,  if  you  don't,  you  will  know — that  the  Irish  People,  since  its 
commencement,  has  been  writing  down  agitation,  and  has  been 
writing  up  Judge  Keogh  as  the  sample  of  the  benefits  derived  by 
the  Irish  people  from  tenant  leagues,  parliamentary  agitation,  and 
episcopal  politics." 

"  Of  the  many  allusions  to  his  lordship  throughout  the  journal 
here  is  a  specimen  from  the  number  of  March  26,  1864: 

"'Mr.  Justice  Keogh  (what  a  curious  combination  of  words!) 


(J Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life.  55 

ipeaks  of  cowardly  men  who,  in  their  closets,  wrote  violent  and 
inflammatory  stuff  which  led  others  into  such  acts  as  were  sub- 
jects of  these  investigations,  but  who  themselves  shrank  from  join- 
ing in  the  dangerous  practices  they  led  others  into. 

"  '  It  must  have  been  rather  refreshing  for  the  learned  judge's  au- 
dience to  hear  him  coming  out  in  the  appropriate  character  of  Cen- 
sor morum.  But  has  the  high-flying  moralist  never  heard  of  men 
who  spoke  violent  and  inflammatory  stuff,  and  swore  rhetorical 
oaths  which  they  never  kept  ?  Has  he  never  heard  of  men  who 
now  sit  in  the  high  places  of  the  land  who  were  once,  if  not  the 
accomplices,  at  least  the  intimate  associates,  of  forgers  and  swind- 
lers ?  But  it  is  a  waste  of  time  to  bandy  words  with  Mr.  Justice 
Keogh.  To  be  sure,  he  is  a  judge — but  so  was  Jeffreys,  so  was 
Macclesfield,  and  so  was  Norbury. 

"  '  Now,  you  know  Judge  Keogh  is  not  an  angel,  much  less  a 
saint.  Indeed  he  has  as  little  chance  of  canonization  as  you  or  I 
have,  so  long  as  Dr.  Cullen  is  considered  an  authority  in  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  for  the  archbishop  has  denounced  us  all  severally  in 
several  pastorals.  The  judge  is  only  a  human  being  like  either  of 
ourselves,  subject  to  all  the  little  irritating  annoyances  which  afflict 
human  beings,  and  subject  to  be  impressed  with  dislike  of  those 
who  treat  him  with  contempt.  Selecting  him  as  the  judge  to  try 
the  persons  connected  with  the  Irish  People  may  be  quite  in  accord 
with  the  rest  of  the  proceedings,  but  it  cannot  tend  much  to  im- 
press people  with  a  feeling  of  respect  for  the  administration  of  just- 
ice. But  as  it  is  law  the  government  seems  most  desirous  to  ad- 
minister, there  is  no  doubt  but  in  selecting  Judge  Keogh  to  admin- 
ister it  to  us,  they  have  selected  the  most  proper  person.  The  two 
points  which  I  present  for  your  executive  consideration,  Sir  Robert, 
are  the  restrictions  here,  and  the  admission  to  bail,  on  either  or 
both  of  which  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  hear  from  you,  and  remain, 
your  obedient  servant, 

"  '  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa.'  " 

The  prisoner  then  went  on  to  read  extracts  from  articles  which 
appeared  in  several  newspapers  pending  the  trial  of  the  prisoners, 
and  which,  he  alleged,  had  been  published  to  prejudice  them  in  the 
minds  of  the  jurors. 

[The  reading  of  the  articles  occupied  more  than  an  hour  and 
three-quarters.] 

Having  concluded,  the  prisoner  said — If  there  was  any  gentle- 
man connected  with  the  Continental  press  in  court  he  begged  that 
he  would  take  down  the  words  from  the  London  Times  of  the  14th 
November  last: — "Treason  is  a  serious  thing;  and  these  men  are 
undoubtedly  guilty  of  it."  He  thought  the  publication  of  those 
articles  in  Dublin  sufficient  to  justify  any  court  in  removing  the 
trials  from  Dublin.  He  would  now  read  the  affidavit  that  had  been 
made  for  the  purpose  of  the  motion.  Mr.  Lawless  had  gone  for  » 
copy  of  it. 


56  0 'Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — I  cannot  allow  it  to  be  read.  We  have 
given  you  very  considerable  latitude  indeed.  I  may  say  to  you  at 
once  that  everything  you  have  read  is  irrelevant  to  the  case,  and 
wholly  beyond  the  bounds  of  all  evidence.  But,  as  you  are  un- 
defended, we  have  given  you  every  possible  latitude.  If  counsel 
appeared  for  you  here,  and  attempted  to  do  what  you  have  done, 
we  would  not  permit  it  for  one  moment.  You  have  now  occupied 
two  hours  in  reading  those  articles,  and  we  cannot  now  allow  you 
to  read  the  affidavit,  which  would  be  only  a  repetition  of  everything 
that  you  have  gone  over.  Proceed  to  address  the  jury.  It  is  un- 
necessary to  wait  for  the  affidavit. 

Prisoner — I  will  ask  no  concession  from  your  lordships  but  what 
the  law  allows  me.  Give  me  the  pamphlet  of  the  Chicago 
Convention. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Certainly;  give  him  the  pamphlet. 

[The  pamphlet  in  question  was  handed  to  the  prisoner.] 

Prisoner — Give  me  whatever  other  books  have  been  given  in 
evidence. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — There  is  only  this  account  book. 

Prisoner — Was  there  not  a  drill-book  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh— I  believe  so. 

Prisoner — Let  me  have  it. 

Detective  Officer  Dawson  brought  in  a  copy  of  the  drill-book,  and 
placed  it  on  the  ledge  of  the  dock. 

Prisoner — Am  I  not  entitled  to  read  all  those  books  produced 
against  me  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Anything  material  to  the  issue  you  are  en- 
titled to  read;  but  you  may  as  well  understand,  once  for  all,  that 
you  will  not  be  allowed  to  fritter  away  the  time  of  the  court,  or  oc- 
cupy the  time  of  the  court,  jury,  and  public,  to  make  a  defence 
when  you  are  not  making  any. 

Prisoner — The  time  of  the  public  has  been  given  to  try  me. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — You  will  go  on  until  every  human  being 
will  have  seen  that  you  have  got  every  latitude;  but  when  you  have 
gone  so  far  as  that  no  human  being  in  the  community  can  say  but 
that  you  have  got  the  utmost  possible  latitude — latitude  never 
given  to  prisoner  before — then  I  will  stop  you. 

Prisoner — There  never  was  before  such  a  trial  as  mine,  either  in 
the  judges  trying  me  or 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Proceed  now. 

Prisoner — I  will  read  the  pamphlet.  Garbled  extracts  have  been 
read  against  me,  and  I  am  entitled  to  show  they  do  not  bear  the 
interpretation  put  upon  them. 

The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  read  the  pamphlet.  Having 
gone  through  about  twenty  pages,  the  foreman  of  the  jury  (Mr. 
Vaughan)  said — 

I  am  requested  by  the  jury  to  state  that  if  the  prisoner  would 
r>  «trk  any  portions  of  the  pamphlet  which  he  thought  bore  upon  the 


0' Donovan  RossaJs  Prison  Life,  57 

case  for  his  defence,  they  would  give  them  the  same  consideration 
as  if  he  had  read  them. 

A  Juror — What  he  is  doing  now  is  greatly  against  him. 

Prisoner — I  am  reading  the  pamplet  to  show  that  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  me. 

A  Juror — We  are  quite  willing  to  sit  here  as  long  as  it  may  be 
necessary  to  fully  and  fairly  investigate  the  case,  but  we  can  con- 
sider this  pamphlet  in  our  room. 

Another  Juror — Occupying  so  much  time  in  reading  what  does 
not  concern  the  case  is  enough  to  stir  up  an  armed  insurrection 
amongst  the  persons  in  court  (a  laugh.) 

Prisoner —  I  am  entitled  to  read  it. 

A  Juror — Only  a  portion  of  the  book  is  in  evidence. 

Prisoner — I  don't  see  how  the  book  can  be  considered  in  con- 
nection with  me  at  all.  You  can  only  blame  the  Crown  for  putting 
in  such  books  against  me,  but  as  they  are  in  I  will  read  them. 

A  Juror — We  are  only  making  a  suggestion  to  you. 

Prisoner — Do  you  think  the  book  has  anything  to  do  with  me  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — You  cannot  question  the  jury.  I  may  tell 
you  that  in  point  of  strict  law  you  are  entitled  to  read  it — every 
line  of  it — if  you  choose. 

Prisoner — If  the  Crown  withdraw  the  pamphlet  I  will  give  it  up. 

The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  read  through  the  pamphlet, 
which  consisted  of  about  eighty  octavo  pages  of  small  print,  and 
which  contained  all  the  proceedings  of  the  Chicago  Convention,  the 
constitution  of  the  organization,  and  the  statutes  by  which  the 
members  were  bound.     Having  concluded,  he  said: 

Now,  gentlemea,  I  will  not  further   occupy  your  time ;  but 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Before  you  go  further,  it  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  remark  to  the  public  press  the  grave  responsibility  that 
would  attach  to  the  publication  of  that  document  which  the  prisoner 
has  read,  under  the  pretext  that  it  would  form  a  necessary  portion 
of  his  defence. 

Prisoner — I  have  used  the  document  to  show  Shat  there  was 
nothing  in  it  which  could  concern  me.  Are  there  any  other  pam- 
phlets proved  in  evidence  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — No. 

Prisoner — There  is  a  drill-book. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — There  is;  but  only  the  finding  of  it  in  the 
Irish  People  office  has  been  proved.  None  of  it  has  been  read  in 
evidence. 

Prisoner — Is  it  not  right  to  show  the  jury  the  nature  of  the 
book  ?  The  book  has  been  produced  by  the  Crown  to  influence 
.he  jury. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — You  can  make  any  observation  on  that 
book  you  please. 

Prisoner — Have  you  seen  this  book,  gentlemen  ? 

A  Juror-  -We  have  not. 


58  G  Donovan  liossas  Prison  Life. 

Prisoner — Then  I  submit  I  have  a  right  to  show  them  what  sort 
of  a  book  it  is. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Proceed  with  your  address. 

Prisoner — Two  volumes  of  the  Irish  People  have  been  produced 
in  evidence. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — That  is  quite  a  mistake.  The  volumes  have 
not  been  given  in  evidence;  but  certain  articles  in  them  have  been 
proved,  the  particulars  of  which  were  furnished  to  your  solicitor. 

Prisoner — I  understand  that  all  the  articles  were  put  in.  The 
crown  counsel  having  quoted  in  a  garbled  manner  several  articles, 
I  think  that  I  am  entitled  to  read  them  all. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh  said  the  prisoner  was  entitled  to  read  all  the 
articles  which  had  been  read  in  evidence,  and  also  all  articles  which 
tended  to  explain  or  qualify  them. 

Prisoner — I  submit  that  as  I  am  charged  with  publishing  this 
paper,  I  have  a  right  to  show  all  the  articles  to  the  jury  that  they 
may  judge  from  all  the  publications  what  sort  of  a  paper  it  is.  I 
don't  mean,  of  course,  to  read  the  advertisements  (a  laugh) ;  I  only 
mean  to  read  what  is  necessary  for  my  defence. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — You  will  proceed  with  your  address  to  the 
jury,  but  you  will  understand  that  it  shall  not  degenerate  into  ab- 
solute abuse. 

The  prisoner  said  that  in  opening  the  case  the  Attorney- General 
had  referred  to  a  copy  of  the  first  publication  of  the  Irish  People, 
to  show  that  he  was  the  manager  of  it.  In  that  paper  was  an 
article  headed  "Isle,  Race  and  Doom."  Was  he  to  be  precluded 
from  reading  that  article  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — It  is  quite  competent  for  the  Attorney-Gen- 
eral to  show  that  you  were  manager  of  the  paper  without  per- 
mitting you  to  read  all  the  articles. 

Prisoner — The  jury  cannot  tell  what  the  paper  is  unless  they  hear 
it  read. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Well,  sir,  proceed  at  once.  You  have  been 
addressing  the  court  for  four-and-a-half  hours,  and  you  shall  have 
every  further  opportunity,  but  there  is  a  limit  to  all  things. 

The  court  then  adjourned,  and  on  resuming  the  prisoner  re- 
peated his  request  with  reference  to  the  court  allowing  him  to  read 
the  whole  of  the  articles  which  had  appeared  in  the  Irish  People. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh  said  he  could  not  allow  any  such  thing.  He 
might  read  those  articles  which  had  been  used  against  him,  and 
other  portions  of  these  publications  which  might  go  to  explain  the 
articles  relied  on  by  the  Crown. 

The  prisoner  then  asked  the  Crown  to  withdraw  the  charge  of 
assassination  made  against  him  by  Mr.  Barry,  and  then  he  would 
content  himself  with  alluding  to  the  articles  put  in  evidence. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Proceed  with  your  address  to  the  jury,  sir. 

The  prisoner  said  that  he  should  show  that  the  charge  was 
false,  and  also  that  the  charges  made  against  them  by  the  Dublin 


G Donovan  Eossas  Prison  Life.  5  9 

press,  which,  he  said,  prejudiced  the  public  against  them,  were 
false. 

(The  prisoner  then  read  several  articles  from  a  file  of  the  Irish 
People  newspaper.)  He  was  proceeding  to  read  one,  headed,  "  Eng- 
land on  Ireland,"  when 

The  Attorney-General  said — This  is  not  an  article  in  the  in- 
dictment. 

Judge  Keogh — I  have  looked  through  the  article  an  1  "ead  some 
of  it  as  it  appears  in  the  same  paper  and  bearing  —  the  article 
read;  but  it  does  not  qualify  that  article.  You  can  look  at  it,  and 
if  you  like  you  can  read  it,  but  you  will  see  whether  it  prejudices 
your  case. 

Prisoner — I  am  glad  you  have  the  paper,  at  all  events. 

Judge  Keogh — I  have  the  paper. 

The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  read  the  article,  which  was,  he 
said,  written  in  reply  to  English  articles  abusing  Ireland.  In  re- 
plying to  these  they  were  to  be  excused  for  getting  up  a  little  spirit. 
They — the  jury — would  say  the  same  themselves.  If  their  coun- 
try were  run  down  by  Englishmen  they  may  likely  themselves 
become  somewhat  plucky,  and  say  something  that,  perhaps,  the 
judge  would  say  was  treason-felony.  He  would  now  read  an  arti- 
cle headed  "  Tall  Talk."     In  the  paper  of  November  28 — 

Judge  Keogh — We  have  looked  carefully  over  the  article  and 
find  that  it  has  no  reference  to  the  case. 

Prisoner — Then  you  will  not  allow  me  to  read  it  ? 

Judge  Keogh — No. 

The  prisoner  said  he  would  read  the  article  headed  "  Bane  and 
Antidote." 

Judge  Keogh  said  it  was  not  mentioned  in  the  indictment. 

The  prisoner  said  he  wished  to  read  it  for  the  purpose  of  show- 
ing that  it  was  not  right  to  be  tried  before  his  lordship. 

Judge  Keogh — That  at  once  settles  the  question.  You  cannoi 
read  it. 

Prisoner — Well,  I  will  read  the  article  of  the  5th  of  December. 

Judge  Keogh — We  cannot  allow  you  to  read  it. 

The  prisoner  then  referred  to  an  article  entitled  u  National 
Self -Reliance,"  which,  he  said,  ridiculed  the  idea  of  inviting  for- 
eigners to  come  here  and  invade  the  country.  That  was  one  of 
the  charges  against  him.  That  article  stated  that  if  fifty  thousand 
French  or  Irish-American  soldiers  landed  in  Ireland,  and  that  the 
people  were  not  prepared  for  them,  they  would  be  swept  into  the 
sea  by  the  British  troops  in  less  than  three  months.  That  was 
true  and  he  believed  it. 

Judge  Fitzgerald  said  that  he  had  read  an  article  headed  "  A 
Retrospect,"  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  other  article  was  a  great 
deal  exaggerated.  He  should  tell  him  that  they  would  not  allow  the 
court  to  be  the  means  of  spreading  articles  which  were  treasonable, 
and  certainly  seditious. 


60  O  Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life. 

The  Prisoner — The  English  jurors  who  are  here  for  my  protec- 
tion— 

Judge  Fitzgerald  said  it  could  not  be  read. 

The  prisoner  said  he  could  not  consider  it  right  to  have  a  pack- 
ed bench  trying  him. 

The  Attorney-General  protested  against  this  court  being  made 
the  medium  for  the  dissemination  of  treasonable  doctrines.  It 
should  not  be  allowed  in  a  court  of  justice. 

Judge  Keogh- — The  prisoner  is  entitled  to  make  any  observation 
on  them  he  pleases,  and  he  is  merely  reading  them. 

The  prisoner  said  he  had  a  right  either  to  read  them  or  make 
observations  on  them,  according  as  it  pleased  him. 

Judge  Fitzgerald  said  he  wished  to  mention  that  he  trusted 
the  good  sense  of  the  press  would  indicate  to  them  the  propriety 
of  not  publishing  these  articles  in  any  paper. 

Prisoner — I  will  read  all  the  articles  in  the  indictment.  I  will 
claim  my  right  to  read  every  article  in  that  indictment. 

The  prisoner  then  read  the  article  headed  "  The  Approaching 
Crisis,"  observing,  en  passant,  that  he  would  read  to-morrow  the 
articles  which  would  explain  those  that  he  was  now  reading.  After 
reading  some  more  articles,  he  proposed  to  read  from  the  Irish  Peo- 
ple "  John  O'Mahony's  Letter  to  Bishop  Duggan." 

Their  lordships  ruled  that  this  could  not  be  read,  as  it  was  not 
in  evidence. 

The  Prisoner — Am  I  not  charged  in  connection  with  John 
O'Mahony  ? 

Judge  Keogh — You  have  heard  the  ruling  of  the  Court. 

The  Prisoner — Oh,  very  well;  we  will  return  to  it  again.  He 
then  commenced  to  read  an  article  headed  the  "Chicago  Fair," 
when 

Mr.  Lawless,  solicitor,  who  sat  near  him,  observed  to  him  that 
in  reading  these  articles  he  was  making  the  speech  of  the  Solicitor- 
General. 

The  Prisoner — So  I  am,  and  my  own  speech,  too.  Having  read 
a  number  of  articles,  he  came  to  one  in  which  there  was  a  passage 
that  every  man  had  an  object  to  accomplish,  namely,  to  make 
"  every  cultivator  of  the  soil  the  proprietor  in  fee  simple  of  the 
lands  and  houses  of  his  fathers,"  and  this,  he  contended,  did  not 
mean  to  deprive  any  man  of  his  land.  He  proposed  to  read  an 
article  on  "  Military  Books,"  in  answer  to  a  correspondent. 

Judge  Keogh — We  have  looked  through  this  article,  and  we 
would  be  only  making  this  court  of  justice  a  means  of  propagating 
treason  if  we  permitted  that  article  to  be  read.  We  cannot  allow  it. 

The  prisoner  urged  that  he  ought  to  be  allowed  to  read  it. 

Judge  Keogh — You  have  heard  the  order  of  the  court.  We 
cannot  allow  that  article  to  be  read. 

The  prisoner  having  read  the  article  "  Priests  in  Politics,"  he 


0 'Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  61 

expressed  a  wish  to  read  the  letter  signed  "  A  Munster  Priest,"  on 
which  article  he  said  that  letter  was  written. 

Judge  Keogh  asked  him  for  what  purpose  he  proposed  to  read 
that  letter? 

The  prisoner  said  he  wished  the  jury  to  understand  the  article. 

Judge  Keogh  said  he  might  read  the  letter  in  question. 

The  prisoner  proceeded  to  read  the  letter,  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  Judge  Keogh,  who  said:  You  have  read  enough  of  this 
letter,  purporting  to  have  been  written  by  a  priest,  to  show  the  na- 
ture of  it;  but  we  really  think  that  to  allow  you  to  continue  to  read 
it  would  be  propagating  the  worst  kind  of  treason.  I  will  act  upon 
my  own  responsibility,  and  will  not  allow  the  further  reading  of 
that  letter. 

The  Prisoner — "What  use  is  it  for  me,  then,  to  try  to  explain 
these  articles. 

Judge  Keogh — There  has  not  been  the  slightest  attempt  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  your  address,  now  of  seven  hours  and 
a  half's  duration,  to  qualify,  pare  down,  or  soften  a  single  article; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  everything  has  been  addressed  to  the  jury  to 
exaggerate  them. 

The  Prisoner — If  this  was  treason,  why  was  it  not  prosecuted 
before  ? 

Judge  Keogh — Proceed  now;  I  won't  allow  it  to  be  read. 

The  Prisoner — I  say  it  is  my  right 

Judge  Keogh — The  ruling  of  the  court  is  that  it  shall  not  be 
read. 

The  Prisoner — You  gave  me  liberty  to  read  the  letter. 

Judge  Keogh — I  gave  you  liberty  to  read  it  to  explain  the 
article;  but  I  now  perceive  that  it  is  quite  inadmissible. 

The  Prisoner — You  change  about;  you  rule  one  thing  now  and 
another  thing  alterwards. 

Judge  Keogh — If  you  don't  proceed  I  will  terminate  your  right 
to  address  the  jury,  and  that  peremptorily. 

The  prisoner,  on  coming  to  an  article  on  the  Cork  trials,  said  he 
claimed  his  right  to  read  it. 

Judge  Keogh — It  has  nothing  whatever  to  say  to  the  charge. 

The  Prisoner — Oh,  yes;  there  is  something  about  Cornelius 
O'Keane  brought  up  here. 

Judge  Keogh — That  does  not  make  it  admissible  as  evidence. 

The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  refer  to  an  article  headed,  "The 
Regeneration  Scheme,"  and  said  before  he  read  the  article  it  would 
be  better  for  him  to  read  the  letter  by  Dr.  Moriarty  first. 

Judge  Keogh — We  will  not  allow  any  such  thing  to  be  done. 

The  Prisoner — But  the  Attorney-General  charges  me  in  his 
speech  with — 

Judge  Keogh — Proceed  with  your  address.  We  won't  allow  it 
to  be  read. 


62  O  Donovan  RossaJs  Prison  Life. 

The  Prisoner — Very  well,  I  will  go  on  now,  but  I  reserve  my 
right  to  read  these  things  before  I  am  done. 

The  prisoner  then  proceed  to  read  the  article,  and,  on  coming 
to  the  passage  about  the  freedom  of  Hungary,  said  it  was  not  to 
free  a  country  that  was  a  crime,  but  to  attempt  to  free  a  country  and 
not  to  be  successful,  that  was  the  crime.  Now,  he  said,  after  read- 
ing that  he  had  a  perfect  right  to  read  the  letter  about  Dr.  Moriarty. 
Judge  Keogh — Proceed,  now,  sir,  with  the  next  document. 
The  prisoner  then  read  an  article  headed  "  Peace  in  America." 
At  the  conclusion  he  said: 

It  is  now  six  o'clock,  my  lord,  and  I  suggest  that  we  close  for 
this  evening. 

Judge  Keogh — Oh,  certainly  not.     The  Court  will  proceed. 
The  Prisoner — I  am  now  speaking  for  eight  hours,  my  lord,  and 
the  Court  closes  every  other  evening  at  six  o'clock. 
The  jury  intimated  a  desire  to  proceed. 
Judge  Keogh — What  is  the  wish  of  the  jury? 
The  foreman  said  to  proceed. 
Judge  Keogh — Proceed  now,  sir. 

The  Prisoner — Why,  it  is  like  a  '98  trial — a  regular  Norbury  case  ? 
Judge  Keogh — Proceed,  sir. 

The  prisoner  then  proceeded  to  read  other  articles,  and  on  com- 
ing to  one  in  which  allusion  was  made  to  the  advancement  of 
"Keoghs,  Monahans  and  Sadliers,"  said — "And  now,  gentlemen,  I 
will  address  you  a  few  words.  I  say  that  indictment  has  been 
brought  against  me,  and  that  man  (Judge  Keogh)  has  been  placed 
upon  that  bench  to  try  me;  and  if  there  is  one  amongst  you  with 
a  spark  of  honesty  in  his  breast,  he  will  resent  such  injustice.  That 
article  has  been  brought  against  me  in  the  indictment;  and  do  you 
all  believe  that  that  man  on  the  bench  (Judge  Keogh)  is  a  proper 
man  to  try  me  ?  He  has  been  placed  there  to  convict  me.  There, 
let  the  law  now  take  its  dirty  course,"  said  I,  and  saying  it,  I  flung 
on  the  table  the  large  volume  of  the  Irish  People  out  of  which  I 
was  reading. 

The  prosecuting  counsel  were  quite  unprepared  for  my  sudden 
stop,  and  when  I  declined  to  take  any  more  part  in  the  proceedings 
they  and  the  judges  decided  that  they  would  adjourn  the  court 
until  next  day. 

The  last  day  of  my  appearance  in  court  was  Wednesday,  the 
13th  of  December;  the  judges  were  advertised  to  open  the  Com- 
mission in  Cork  on  the  14th,  and  I  felt  satisfied  in  having  occupied 
them  the  time  I  intended.  As  the  Evening  Mail  said,  in  justifica- 
tion of  the  legality  of  my  course,  "the  Crown's  game  was  a  fast 
one,  but  mine  was  a  slow  one,"  and  I  had  a  right  to  take  it  as  it 
pleased  me.     This  is  the  closing  scene : 

"  His  lordship  next  called  the  attention  of  the  jury  to  a  letter 
which  had  some  reference  to  Paris.  Now,  he  had  a  notion  of  his 
own  that  conspiracies  of  this  kind  would  be  dealt  with  in  a  very 


(J Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life.  63 

different  way  in  that  capital.  The  Frenchman  would  clutch  at 
once  with  a  strong  hand  all  those  who  dare  interfere  with  his  au- 
thority. 

The  Prisoner — That  is  a  nice  address  to  a  jury. 

The  learned  judge  went  on  to  say  that  he  was  sure  military 
schools  would  not  be  allowed  to  be  established  in  Paris.  The 
prisoner  stated,  and  it  was  not  an  unusual  circumstance,  that  he 
assumed  the  name  of  O'Donnell  going  out  to  America,  because  he  had 
many  friends  there,  and  did  not  want  to  be  bothered  with  their  in- 
vitations. He  also  said  he  had  business  transactions  with  the  ex- 
port of  whisky  from  Messrs.  "Wyse  &  Murphy,  Cork. 

The  Prisoner — I  have  the  papers. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh  said  there  was  nothing  inconsistent  in  the 
prisoner  having  business  transactions  of  the  kind.  He  came  home 
on  the  21st  of  July;  he  landed  that  day  at  Queenstown.  The  date 
was  important.  On  the  22d  of  July  the  bills  of  exchange  and  the 
letters  were  found  at  the  terminus  of  the  Kingstown  Railway.  The 
evidence  showed  conclusively  that  it  was  not  the  prisoner  who 
dropped  these  documents. 

The  Prisoner — Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  said  in  his  charge  it  was." 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh  said  it  was  impossible  the  prisoner  could  have 
dropped  them.  The  jury,  however,  had  it  that  the  prisoner  went 
out  to  America  by  the  name  of  O'Donnell,  and  in  the  letter  in  ques- 
tion O'Mahony  speaks  of  his  regret  at  parting  with  O'Donnell,  and 
requesting  him  to  be  sent  back  "  in  view  of  cordial  and  prompt 
action." 

The  Prisoner — Suppose  it  was  O'Donovan  Rossa  that  was  alluded 
to,  but  that  he  did  not  act  upon  the  letter — did  not  go  back  but  re- 
mained in  Dublin,  as  the  police  proved — have  you  nothing  to  say 
to  the  jury  upon  that  ? 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — That  is  a  very  proper  observation. 

Prisoner — Yes,  I  think  it  is. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Certainly,  gentlemen,  you  have  a  right  to 
regard  that  observation  of  the  prisoner  ;  but,  of  course,  you  must 
also  take  into  account  the  letters  relating  to  the  prisoner's  departure 
for  America;  that  he  went  by  the  instructions  of  Stephens  under  the 
circumstances  stated. 

Mr.  Lawless — Your  lordship  will  remember  that  Nagle  said  he 
saw  the  prisoner's  name  over  a  house  in  New  York. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Yes,  that  is  so,  in  1863;  but  I  do  not  think 
it  has  much  bearing  on  the  case. 

Judge  Keogh  having  read  and  observed  upon  other  letters  then 
referred  to  page  5  of  the  account  book,  in  which,  among  other  en- 
tries in  the  prisoner's  handwriting,  was  one  that  he  had  given 
"  £25  to  J.  Power,"  that  was  Stephens,  to  travel. 

The  Prisoner — On  that  page  there  are  payments  to  Cherry  and 
Shields,  of  Sackville-street,  to  Alexander,  of  Mary's-abbey,  and 
other  people. 


64  O  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

Judge  Keogh  said  that  was  certainly  the  fact.  The  prisoner 
himself  directed  Nagle's  attention  to  another  item,  which  had  not 
been  used  by  the  crown.  An  entry  of  £3  7s.  lid.,  and  10s.  9d.  for 
postage  on  Chicago  papers  kept  in  the  Post-office. 

The  prisoner  said  the  explanation  of  that  entry  was  this,  that 
the  paper  not  being  registered  at  first,  the  papers  addressed  to 
Chicago  were  kept  in  the  Post-office,  and  after  some  months  they 
were  all  got  in  a  bundle,  and  those  were  the  sums  paid  upon  them. 

Judge  Keogh  said  that  was  a  natural  and  very  proper  explana- 
tion, and  he  was  delighted  the  prisoner  interrupted  him  to  make 
that  explanation. 

The  Prisoner — As  I  said  before,  if  I  could  get  the  papers  the 
Crown  have  kept,  I  could  explain  a  great  many  other  things  and 

The  Attorney-General  interposed,  and  said  he  objected  to  the 
prisoner  being  allowed  to  address  the  jury  in  this  way. 

Judge  Keogh  said  the  prisoner  could  not  be  allowed  to  repeat 
statements  over  and  over.  He  then  proceeded  to  tell  all  about 
Robespierre  and  the  revolution  of  his  day.  One  word  as  to  these 
abominable  articles.  He  was  glad  to  see  the  spirit  of  the  real  public 
journalism  of  this  city  which  did  not  report  the  articles  the  prisoner 
read  here  yesterday  in  the  expectation  that  they  would  be  published 
— they  did  not  allow  them  to  go  forward  to  contaminate  the  moral 
atmosphere  of  this  country.  "  Every  man  a  sovereign  and  the  rulers 
the  servants  of  the  people,"  the  great  constitution  of  America  was 
founded  by  Washington  and  maintained  by  Madison  and  Adams, 
and  its  Senate  was  adorned  by  the  eloquence  and  unrivalled  abili- 
ties of  Webster  and  Henry  Clay.  Gentlemen,  I  send  these  papers 
to  your  box.  If  you  believe  that  that  wild  confederacy  existed,  and 
that  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  was  a  member  of  that  confederacy,  you 
ought  unhesitatingly  to  find  him  guilty.  Let  there  be  no  words 
bandied  about  assassination  in  actual  or  massacre  in  general.  I 
leave  this  case  to  your  arbitration  ;  I  believe  whoever  reads  these 
trials  in  a  calm  and  tranquil  spirit,  will  say  that  if  we  have  erred 
at  all  it  has  been  on  the  side  of  indulgence  to  the  accused ! 

The  Prisoner — You  have  told  them  to  convict  me. 

Clerk  of  the  Crown — Remove  the  prisoner. 

The  jury  retired  at  half-past  one  o'clock. 

THE  VERDICT. 

At  thirty-five  minutes  past  two  o'clock  the  jury  returned  into 
court,  and  the  prisoner  was  again  brought  into  the  dock. 

Mr.  Geale — You  say  that  he  is  "  guilty"  on  all  the  counts. 

The  Attorney-General — I  have  now  to  ask  your  lordships  to 
pronounce  judgment  on  the  prisoner,  and  in  doing  so  I  have  to 
refer  you  to  an  entry  on  the  calendar,  by  which  it  appears  that  this 
prisoner  was  arraigned  and  pleaded  "  guilty  "  in  July,  1859,  at  the 
Cork  Assizes,  to  an  indictment  of  a  character  precisely  similar  to 
the  present — an  indictment  of  treason-felony.  He  at  first  pleaded 
"  not  guilty,"  but  afterwards  withdrew  it,  and  was  released  on  the 


CP  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  65 

condition  that  he  would  appear  when  called  upon  to  receive  sen- 
tence. Having  regard  to  the  lapse  of  time,  I  thought  it  more  fair 
and  constitutional  not  to  call  the  particular  attention  of  the  court  to 
that  entry,  and  ask  the  court  to  pass  sentence  without  a  trial,  but  to 
allow  the  present  case  to  take  its  course.  I  think  it  right  now  to 
call  attention  to  the  record  of  the  former  conviction  by  the  Clerk 
of  the  Crown  for  Cork. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — Has  the  prisoner  anything  to  say  ?  You 
pleaded  guilty  to  a  similar  indictment  at  the  Summer  Assizes  of  '59. 

Prisoner — My  lord,  that  is  a  small  matter.  I  have  to  say  I  was 
arrested  in  '59,  and  charged  with  an  offence,  but  everything  that 
Was  sworn  against  me  was  false.  I  believe  Mr.  Whiteside  was 
Attorney- General  under  the  Derby  Government,  and  through  our 
attorney  we  were  told  that  if  we  pleaded  guilty,  Dan  O'Sullivan 
(  Agreem),  who  had  been  transported,  would  be  released.  We  would 
not  do  so  until  July,  when  there  was  a  change  of  government,  and 
on  the  second  day  of  the  assizes  we  were  discharged.  You  can  add 
anything  you  like  to  the  sentence  you  are  going  to  pass  on  me  if  it 
is  any  satisfaction  to  you. 

Mr.  Geale — Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Eossa,  you  have  been  indicted 
and  found  guilty  of  compelling  her  Majesty  to  change  her  measures, 
and  stir  up  and  incite  foreigners  to  invade  this  country.  What  have 
yau  to  say  why  sentence  should  not  be  passed  upon  you  ? 

The  Prisoner — With  the  fact  that  the  government  seized  papers 
connected  with  my  defence  and  examined  them — with  the  fact  that 
they  packed  the  jury — with  the  fact  that  the  government  stated 
they  would  convict— with  the  fact  that  they  sent  Judge  Keogh,  a 
second  Norbury,  to  try  me — with  these  facts  before  me,  it  would  be 
useless  to  say  anything. 

The  observations  of  the  prisoner  created  a  profound  sensation, 
to  which  audible  expression  was  given  in  court. 

Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald — We  will  retire  now  for  a  few  minutes. 

After  a  short  absence,  their  lordships  came  into  court,  when 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh  passed  sentence  as  follows : — Jeremiah  O'Don- 
Dvan  Rossa,  you  have,  after  a  most  patient  trial,  been  found  guilty 
by  a  jury  of  your  countrymen  of  the  offence  which  is  charged  against 
you  in  this  indictment.  You  have  been  found  now  twice  guilty  of 
the  same  offence — once  upon  your  own  confession  nearly  six  years 
ago — and  now  by  a  verdict  of  your  countrymen.  We  have  investi- 
gated and  considered  the  details  of  the  evidence  as  affects  your 
case,  and  we  have  contrasted  them  with  the  degrees  of  guilt  by 
which  your  co-conspirators  were  affected.  We  have  considered 
whether  there  could  be  a  distinction  drawn  between  your  case  and 
those  of  the  others  who  have  been  tried,  but  the  more  we  have  done 
so,  the  more  we  have  been  bound  to  arrive  at  the  conclusion  on  the 
evidence  that  has  been  brought  before  us  that  you  entertained  those 
criminal  designs  at  a  period  long  antecedent  to  them.  On  the  oc- 
casion on  which  you  pleaded  guilty  the  indictment  to  you  must  have 


66  0 'Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life. 

entertained  those  designs — and  that  is  so  far  back  as  1859.  You 
may  have  entertained  them  immediately  after  your  liberation  from 
custody — there  is  no  evidence  of  that — but  you  certainly,  on  the 
clearest  evidence,  have  been  connected  with  these  transactions  so 
far  back  as  the  year  1863. 

The  Prisoner — Ah !  I  am  an  Irishman  since  I  was  born. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — We  have  on  the  clearest  evidence  that,  so 
far  back  as  1863,  you  were  the  most  trusted  of  the  friends  in  this  con- 
spiracy of  James  Stephens  and  John  O'Mahony.  No  unprejudiced 
man  who  has  listened  to  these  proceedings  can  arrive  at  any  other 
conclusion  than  that  the  jury  were  imperatively  coerced  to  find  the 
verdict  which  they  have  arrived  at.  I  shall  not  now  waste  words 
by  trying  to  bring  any  sense  of  the  crime  of  which  you  have  been 
found  guilty  to  your  mind. 

The  Prisoner — You  need  not.  It  would  be  a  useless  task  for 
you  to  try. 

Mr.  Justice  Keogh — But  it  is  our  duty — and  the  public  interest 
require  it — that  a  man  who  once  experienced  the  clemency  of  the 
Crown,  and  who  afterwards  violated  his  good  faith,  and  proceeds 
again  to  conspire  against  the  institutions  of  this  country,  shall  not 
have  again  the  opportunity  presented  to  him  of  entertaining  such  de- 
signs and  projects.  We  could  have  drawn  no  distinction  favorable 
to  you  as  between  your  case  and  that  of  the  prisoners  Luby  and 
O'Leary,  who  have  been  convicted  of  a  similar  offence ;  and  our  at- 
tention having  been  called  by  her  Majesty's  Attorney-General  to 
this  plea  of  guilt  entered  on  your  behalf  in  the  year  1859,  for  the 
identical  same  offence  of  which  you  have  been  found  guilty  here  to- 
day, we  have  no  discretion  left  except  to  pass  upon  you  the  sentence 
of  the  court — that  you  be  kept  in  "  penal  servitude  for  the  term  of 
your  natural  life." 

The  Prisoner — All  right,  my  lord. 

Mr.  Geale  (Clerk  of  the  Crown) — Put  him  back. 

The  prison  officers,  who  were  assisted  by  a  large  force  of  police, 
pressed  the  prisoner  from  the  front  of  the  dock.  As  he  turned 
round  he  saluted  some  friends  in  the  gallery,  and,  with  a  smile, 
proceeded  by  the  underground  passage  from  the  dock." 

There  were  many  comments  adverse  and  otherwise  on  the  course 
I  pursued  in  court.  There  is  no  necessity  for  me  to  give  the  opin- 
ions of  the  flunkeys,  of  the  constitutional  agitators,  and  of  the  ad- 
mirers of  that  palladium  of  British  Liberty — trial  by  jury.  They 
all  agreed  that  I  had  acted  disreputably,  shown  myself  a  fool,  a 
madman,  or  a  man  of  inordinate  vanity.  I,  myself,  do  not  believe 
that  I  was  either  mad,  foolish,  or  disreputable ;  but  I  may  be  a  bit 
vain,  for  who  is  there  who  has  not  some  little  mixture  of  foible  or 
frivolity  in  that  compound  of  passions  that  go  to  make  up  his  hu- 
man nature  ?  If  men  that  I  respect — men  that  have  suffered  for  the 
cause  for  which  I  suffered — approve  of  my  action,  it  is  all  that  I  de- 


O Donovan  Rosso!  s  Prison  Life.  67 

sire,  and  it  is  to  me  worth  all  the  praise  or  censure  that  the  lick- 
spittles of  England  or  the  enemies  of  Ireland  could  favor  me  with. 

John  Mitchel,  who  can  write  as  well  as  any  other  man,  wrote  as 
follows: 

"  Paris,  December  22,  1865. 

"Your  readers  must  have  followed  with  intense  interest  the  re- 
ports of  the  trials  (as  they  were  called)  in  Ireland.  Our  poor  friends 
who  have  been  called  upon  this  time  to  stand  before  courts  and 
juries  have  all  behaved  nobly;  but  to  my  mind  the  conduct  of 
O'Donovan  Rossa  was  the  noblest  of  all. 

"  It  was  very  imprudent  in  him  to  take  this  course,  and,  in  fact, 
it  brought  on  him  a  sentence  for  life,  instead  of  twenty  years.  But 
at  any  rate,  he  did  the  thing  that  was  right,  ard  just,  and  manly." 

The  Evening  Mail,  a  Protestant  journal,  that  occasionally 
gleams  with  a  ray  of  Irish  nationality,  came  out  thus : 

"the  trial  of  o'donovan  rossa — 'crown  clemency.' 

"  We  do  not  think  the  crown  lawyers  excercised  a  wise  discre- 
tion, either  as  regards  their  own  convenience  and  character  or  the 
public  service,  in  bringing  O'Donovan  Rossa  to  a  new  trial  at  the 
present  Commission.  These  gentlemen,  however,  thought  otherwise. 
and  they  must  not  now  object  to  such  criticism  as  their  conduct  of 
the  case  may  seem  to  require.  This,  we  must  say,  appears  to  us  ill 
calculated  to  secure  the  ends  aimed  at  by  these  prosecutions. 
When  the  prisoner  undertook  to  defend  himself  it  would,  in  our 
opinion,  have  been  at  once  the  shortest  and  the  wisest  course  to 
have  permitted  him  to  do  so  with  the  fullest  latitude,  as  to  means 
and  time,  within  the  limits  of  the  law. 

"  In  our  opinion,  therefore,  it  was  imprudent,  as  well  as  some- 
what ungenerous,  to  refuse  any  of  the  papers  which  he  represented 
necessary  for  his  defence.  His  argument  that,  when  out  of  ail  those 
seized  at  the  Irish  People  office  a  certain  selection  only  had  been  put 
in  evidence  for  the  prosecution,  there  was  a  presumption  that  the 
remaining  might  be  evidence  for  the  prisoner,  was  at  least  plausi- 
ble; yet  the  Crown  lawyers  resisted  it,  and  did  not,  until  the  last 
moment,  if  at  all,  place  the  papers  actually  referred  to  in  the  indict- 
ment in  the  hands  of  the  prisoner's  solicitor. 

"  We  must  say,  also,  that  some  portions  of  the  prisoner's  cross- 
examination  of  witnesses  objected  to  seemed  to  us  to  be  perfectly 
relevant,  and  to  display  considerable  insight  and  acumen.  We  may 
mention,  as  an  example,  his  cross-examination  of  the  informer  Nagle 
upon  an  account-book,  which  was  supposed  to  be  a  blind  '  starting' 
(as  Nagle  termed  it)  of  new  evidence  for  the  prosecution,  but  which 
turned  out  afterwards  to  be  very  skillfully  designed  to  break  down 
the  testimony  as  to  the  handwriting  of  the  expert,  Chabot.  A  good 
deal  has  been  said  about  the  time  occupied  by  the  prisoner's  de- 
fence, and  the  expedients  he  resorted  to  for  the  purposes  of  delay ; 
but  he  answered  the  criticism  when  he  reminded  the  Court  that  the 


68  O*  Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life, 

time  belonged  to  him  for  defence  as  indefeasibly  as  it  belonged  to 
the  Crown  for  prosecution.  It  must  be  recollected,  too,  that  if  the 
game  of  the  Crown  lawyers  was  the  short  one,  his  was  the  long  one, 
and  that  he  was  as  fully  justified  in  playing  out  his  to  the  best  of 
his  ability  as  they  were  in  playing  off  theirs." 

The  Irishman  said : 

"  The  public  interest  in  the  Fenian  trials,  which  had  begun  to 
flag,  were  revived  by  the  unexpected  announcement  that  O'Donovan 
Rossa  would  defend  himself.  The  innovation  naturally  excited  as 
much  horror  among  the  gentlemen  of  the  long  robe  as  the  intrusion 
of  the  shoe-strings  into  the  ante-chamber  of  Louis  XVI.  created  in 
the  mind  of  the  court  usher.  That  the  determination  was  a  com- 
paratively wise  one,  however,  could  scarcely  be  doubted  by  any  im- 
partial spectator  of  the  vapid  farces  presented  by  the  learned  counsel 
for  the  previous  prisoners  under  the  name  of  defences.  We  say  com- 
pirativt-ly,  for  probably  it  would  have  been  the  wisest  of  all  for 
Luby  and  O'Leary  to  plead  guilty  at  first,  as  they  virtually  did  at 
last.  Nevertheless,  the  acuteness,  vigor,  and  even  good  humor 
wiih  which  the  prisoner  conducted  his  case  yesterday  contrasted 
very  strongly  with  the  quibbling  hair-splittings  and  irrelevancies 
of  the  professional  lawyers." 

And  the  London  Times,  in  mortified  admiration  at  the  spirit  dis- 
played by  the  prisoners  in  general  exclaimed  :  "  It  would  seem  that 
self-reliance,  self-confidence,  patriotism,  and  even  justice,  were  con- 
fronting the  judge  and  the  informers  at  the  bar." 

And  so  they  were. 

I  was  transported  for  life,  and,  looking  over  every  thing  that  was 
urged  against  me,  I  fail  to  see  anything  that  the  law  could  honestly 
urge  against  anyone  as  an  offence.  The  prosecutors  urged  that  I 
was  intimately  acqu  inted  with  John  O'Leary  and  Thomas  Clarke 
Luby,  and  that  I  was  the  trusted  friend  of  John  O'Mahony  and 
James  Stephens,  to  which  I  replied  that  I  was  proud  of  their  friend- 
ship and  acquaintance. 

It  was  urged  against  me  that  I  was  the  treasurer  of  a  fund  sub- 
scribed for  the  defence  of  Cornelius  Dwyer  Keane,  a  man  who  was 
awaiting  trial  on  a  charge  of  swearing  in  men,  and  I  showed  that  it 
was  perfectly  legal  to  see  about  the  defence  of  prisoners,  and  that  the 
law  itself  provided  counsel  for  a  man  who  had  no  means  to  provide 
it  himself. 

It  was  urged  against  me  that  I  went  to  America  in  June  and  came 
back  from  America  in  July,  and  I  asked  where  was  the  treason  in 
that  ?  But  then  they  had  documents  which  were  lost  and  fouud  in 
Kingstown,  from  which  they  attempted  to  show  that  my  journey  was 
in  connection  with  treasonable  designs.  One  of  the  judges,  in  charging 
the  jury  in  Mr.  Luby's  trial,  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  it  was  I  who 
lost  these  documents,  but  I  proved  by  their  own  detectives,  who 
were  watching  me  these  days,  that  I  was  on  my  way  from  Cork  to 
Dublin  at  the  time  those  papers  were  found. 


G1  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  69 

There  was  an  entry  in  my  private  account  book,  which  I  kept  in 
the  Irish  People  office  of  two  pounds  to  Denis  Hayes,  for  Stephens. 
This  Stephens  was  a  young  son  of  mine,  and  I  gave  Denis  Hayes  two 
pounds  to  buy  clothes  for  him.  But  Jndge  Keogh,  in  charging  the 
jury,  told  them  to  look  upon  this  money  as  paid  to  James  Stephens 
and  criminatory  of  me.  The  Irish  People  was  not  registered  at 
first  for  transmission  abroad,  and  the  newspapers  were  all  detained 
in  the  post  office  without  our  getting  notice  of  it,  till  a  friendly 
clerk  came  and  told  me.  We  got  the  paper  registered.  It  cost 
five  pounds  to  restamp  all  the  numbers  that  were  directed  to  Chi- 
cago. I  had  this  entered  on  my  book  as  "  Postage  paid  on  Chicago 
papers,"  and  Judge  Keogh  told  the  jury  to  look  upon  this  as  post- 
age that  I  paid  for  distributing  the  Fenian  pamphlet  of  the  Chicago 
Convention. 

A  fellow  named  Petit  came  from  England  to  the  office  of  the 
Irish  People  to  entrap  me.  I  was  on  my  guard,  though  he  had  a 
letter  of  introduction.  His  telling  me  that  he  was  sent  over 
by  the  friends  in  England  to  drill  men  in  Ireland  was  sufficient  for 
me,  as  I  knew  we  had  hundreds  of  men  already  who  could  act  as 
drill-instructors  if  they  wTere  needed.  This  Petit  swore  against  me, 
and  in  his  informations  he  stated  that  while  he  was  in  the  room 
with  me  I  took  Charles  Kickham  into  a  corner  of  it  and  commenced 
whispering  to  him  something  which  he  (Petit)  could  not  hear. 
This  was  one  of  the  informations  on  which  I  was  prosecuted;  but 
they  would  not  bring  Petit  forward,  because  they  learned  that 
Charles  Kickham  was  very  deaf  and  could  not  be  spoken  to,  less 
whispered  to,  without  using  an  ear-trumpet.  Nagle  also  made 
informations  against  me,  which  were  false.  They  were  read 
against  us  at  the  preliminary  investigations.  I  had  made  arrange- 
ments to  show  the  perjuries  of  the  fellow.  The  Crown  prosecutors 
must  have  learned  this  from  the  seizure  of  my  defence  papers;  and 
when  I  came  to  examine  the  informer  on  his  original  informations, 
Judge  Keogh  coolly  told  me  that  these  were  not  put  in  evidence 
against  me. 

I  was  baffled  every  way  by  their  jugglery;  but  I  baffled  them  a 
little,  too.  A  counsellor  named  Coffey,  who  was  engaged  for  my 
defence  when  I  was  in  prison  in  '59,  was  now  acting  barrister.  He 
was  on  circuit  through  the  country,  and  everywhere  he  held  his 
sessions  he  was  trying  to  frighten  the  people  by  telling  them  that 
the  Government  had  twenty  informers  to  swear  against  us,  whereas 
they  were  at  their  wits'  end  to  get  one  at  all,  outside  of  Nagle. 

They  got  a  person  named  G-illis  to  swear  against  Michael  Moore 
at  the  preliminary  trial,  but  by  the  time  the  Commission  came  on 
he  refused  to  swear  according  as  they  desired,  and  they  sentenced 
him  to  five  years'  penal  servitude. 

Few  men  had  travelled  as  much  of  the  organization  as  I,  few 
men  were  so  generally  known  in  it;  the  authorities  knew  this,  and 
they  were  mad  that  I  had  gone  through  so  much  without  their  b&- 


70  0" Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life. 

ing  able  to  catch  up  any  traces  of  my  work  that  they  could  bring 
against  me. 

They  thought  I  should  have  papers  somewhere  to  be  seized,  and 
they  searched  everywhere.  They  invaded  the  house  of  my  father- 
in-law,  who  lived  two  hundred  miles  from  Dublin,  they  turned  his 
furniture  upside  down,  turned  the  drawers  inside  out,  and  even 
went  up  the  chimneys,  without  getting  anything  but  soot.  The 
only  one  thing  they  could  bring  legally  against  me  was  my  signa- 
ture to  legal  documents  as  publisher  of  the  Irish  People.  On  this 
they  held  me  responsible  for  everything  published  in  the  paper.  I 
signed  this  document  in  their  own  courts,  in  presence  of  their 
own  witnesses,  and  they  brought  it  forward  against  me  to  convict 
me  of  conspiracy.  I  told  them  that  under  a  Russian  despot  or  a 
French  tyrant  justice  would  be  satisfied  and  vengeance  appeased 
by  the  punishment  of  the  proprietor  or  the  editor,  or  any  one  re- 
sponsible party;  but  English  vengeance  was  a  horse  of  another 
color — it  should  even  ride  rough-shod  over  the  printers  who  dared 
to  set  such  treasonable  type. 

They  also  seized  the  used  up  correspondence  that  was  thrown 
into  the  waste-basket  and  prosecuted  the  writers;  they  seized  the 
books  that  contained  the  names  of  the  subscribers — things  that  we 
could  not  avoid  having — and  these  subscribers  they  put  into  prison. 

On  the  24th  of  June,  '65,  I  left  the  Cove  of  Cork  for  New  York. 
I  took  with  me  dispatches  from  James  Stephens  to  John  O'Mahony. 
When  I  arrived  on  the  5th  of  July  I  learned  that  Mr.  P.  J.  Meehan 
and  Mr.  P.  W.  Dunne  were  going  to  Ireland  on  business  con- 
nected with  the  organization.  They  were  to  examine  into  things 
on  the  other  side,  and  were  to  report  faithfully.  A  meeting  of  the 
Council  of  the  Fenian  Brotherhood  was  held  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
William  R.  Roberts,  at  which  I  attended  and  heard  read  those 
despatches  which  I  brought.  This  is  not  the  place  to  tell  what 
passed  there.  Mr.  Meehan  and  Mr.  Dunne  were  to  sail  on  the  12th, 
and  as  I  had  my  business  done  I  determined  to  sail  with  them. 
John  O'Mahony  wanted  to  keep  me  in  New  York,  as  he  said  many 
inquiries  were  made  about  Ireland  which  he  could  not  answer,  and 
my  being  in  the  office  would  do  much  good.  I  told  him  I  would 
not  stay  for  any  consideration,  as  I  had  no  instructions  on  that 
head.  He  asked  me  to  remain  for  a  month,  during  which  time  he 
would  write  to  Stephens  and  have  a  reply,  but  this  I  would  not  do. 
I  was  strongly  of  opinion  that  there  was  to  be  a  fight  in  Ireland. 
Now,  I  do  not  say  that  I  was  mad  to  be  first  in  that  fight;  perhaps 
in  cool  blood  I  would  think  myself  safer  out  of  it,  but  I  was  anxious 
to  stick  up  to  my  own  expressions  and  to  what  people  expected 
from  me,  and  that  was  not  to  be  safely  out  of  the  way  when  there 
was  any  danger  around. 

General  Wolfe  once  told  his  mother  that  he  thought  the  good 
opinion  others  had  of  him  would  biing  him  to  an  early  grave,  for  he 
felt  himself  inferior  to  what  was  thought  of  him  by  his  friends. 


C  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  71 

Yet  to  act  up  to  their  estimate  of  him,  he  thought  that  in  case  of 
danger  he  would  have  to  be  superior  to  himself,  be  first  in  the  fight 
and  first  to  fall,  and  thus  predicted  to  himself  an  early  death,  which 
he  had  at  Quebec.  I  have  not  extraordinary  fighting  courage,  nor 
would  I  feel  warranted  in  rushing  into  dangers  because  my  friends 
may  think  I  would  do  so,  but  when  I  commit  myself  to  a  thing  I 
like  to  act  up  to  it.  I  knew  I  had  committed  myself  to  be  in  the 
fight  in  Ireland,  and  I  would  not  give  it  to  any  one  to  say  that  I 
had  been  safely  in  America  while  it  was  going  on. 

John  O'Mahony  told  me  that  as  I  would  not  stay  he  would  give 
me  a  note  that  would  send  me  back  as  soon  as  I  handed  it  to 
Stephens.  But  I  told  him  I  would  not  be  the  bearer  of  any  note 
that  I  considered  complimentary  to  myself,  and  refused  to  take  it. 

"Then,"  said  he  "I  will  send  it  by  the  others,  and  Patrick  will 
take  it  down." 

I  was  on  board  the  Cuba  when  Patrick  J.  Downing  came  along- 
side on  the  tender,  handed  me  the  note,  which  I  handed  to  P.  J. 
Meehan.  Something  has  been  said  of  John  O'Mahony  having  re- 
fused to  pay  my  passage  back  to  Ireland,  and  that  it  was  P.  J. 
Meehan  paid  it,  part  of  which  is  true  and  part  false.  John 
O'Mahony  did  not  refuse  to  pay  my  passage;  but  it  was  stated  to 
me  by  P.  W.  Dunne,  in  O'Mahony's  presence,  that  the  party  going 
to  Ireland  had  engaged  one  passage  more  than  they  wanted,  and 
that  I  would  fit  in  there.  And  after  I  gave  Colonel  Downing's 
message  to  P.  J.  Meehan  he  took  me  to  the  purser  of  the  ship  and 
paid  for  my  passage.  This  money,  of  course,  I  looked  upon  as 
Fenian  money,  for  I  knew  that  Mr.  Meehan  was  the  bearer  of  funds 
to  Ireland. 

Going  into  the  Cove  of  Cork  I  told  Mr.  Meehan  that  as  I  left  Ire- 
land in  a  troublous  state,  and  not  knowing  but  there  may  be  a 
rigorous  search  on  landing,  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  give  those 
papers  he  had  to  his  sister  or  Mrs.  Dunne,  who  accompanied  us. 
He  told  me  they  were  all  right,  that  he  had  sewed  them  up  between 
the  soles  of  one  of  his  carpet-slippers.  Next  day  he  lost  these 
papers  in  Kingstown,  where  he  went  to  deliver  them  to  James 
Stephens.  Pursuant  to  the  caution  given  him,  and  his  own  prompt- 
ings, he  thought  it  better  not  to  have  those  papers  in  any  pocket 
of  his,  and  he  fastened  them  with  a  pin,  as  he  told  us,  inside  the 
waist  of  his  drawers.  The  pin  slipped  out,  and  the  letters  slipped 
away  unknown  to  him.  The  charge  has  been  made  against  him 
that  he  lost  these  documents  intentionally,  and  much  contention 
has,  I  understand,  been  in  America  about  them.  All  I  say  is,  that 
the  matter  was  discussed  at  a  Council  meeting  in  Dublin,  that  I 
gave  it  as  my  opinion  that  he  lost  them  honestly,  and  that  I  have 
no  evidence  since  to  warrant  me  in  changing  that  opinion.  Parties 
may  say  what  they  please  of  Mr.  Meehan  on  other  matters;  it  is 
only  right  for  me  to  say  so  much  of  him  on  this. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Convicted  —  The  Black  Yan  and  the  Cavalry — Mountjoy  Con- 
vict Prison — Dressing,  Registering,  Shaving,  and  Photograph- 
ing— Sympathetic  Tears — Forbidden  to  Write — A  Bed,  but  no 
Sleep — My  Government  Acquaintance — The  Convicts'  Priest — 
Religious  Books — A  Blinker  Pew  in  Chapel — Feeling  my  Pulse 
and  Fit  for  a  Journey — Meet  the  Convicts  O'Leary,  Luby, 
"  Pagan,"  Moore  and  Haltigan — Tight  Irons — Departure — 
More  Sympathetic  Tears,  and  a  few  Opinions  on  "  Peelers  " 
and  other  British  Pensioners — Old  Dunleary — The  Convict 
Ship — "  Respectable  "  People — A  Word  of  my  Companions — 
The  "Pagan"  and  his  Work — Soldiers  and  Arms. 

Now  I  am  a  convicted  felon,  and  I  am  to  experience  the  benefits 
of  those  institutions  which  England  has  established  to  civilize  those 
who  are  so  barbarous  as  not  to  appreciate  the  many  blessings  to  be 
derived  from  her  "  glorious  British  Constitution,"  and  from  a 
peaceful  and  obedient  resignation  to  her  benign  laws. 

Five  minutes  after  the  condemnation  I  was  ushered  unto  the 
black  van,  in  fact  it  had  been  waiting  for  me  two  hours,  the  horses 
ready  harnessed  and  the  soldiers  equipped,  to  escort  me  to  Mount- 
joy  Prison.  Before  I  went  in  I  shook  hands  with  the  police  who 
had  been  keeping  watch  over  me  in  court  for  the  previous  fifteen 
days,  and  I  will  not  deny  that  they  looked  as  if  they  were  sorry  for 
me.  The  van  rattled  through  the  streets,  the  soldiers  galloped  at 
each  side  of  it  with  sabres  drawn,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour 
the  world  closed  upon  me,  and  the  first  light  of  a  very  dark  life 
dawned  upon  me  inside  the  portals  of  Mountjoy.  The  soldiers 
were  lounging  about  the  entrance  yard  ;  they  ran  to  the  steps  as- 
cending the  doomed  palace  as  the  cortege  approached.  I  came  out, 
and,  with  as  kind  a  look  as  I  could  give,  and  as  light  a  step  as  I 
could  take,  I  passed  through  them.  I  always  go  in  for  being  civil 
to  those  who  can  help  myself  or  my  country;  and,  if  I  don't  get 
anything  by  showing  my  better  nature,  why,  then,  I  go  in  for  being 
otherwise. 

I  was  ushered  into  a  room,  my  clothes  were  prepared  for  me, 
I  was  divested  of  everything  I  wore  belonging  to  a  free  man,  and, 
after  examining  my  naked  body — to  be  sure  that  I  had  nothing 
concealed — I  got  my  outfit.     It  consisted  of  a  shirt,  a  flannel  draw- 


O  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  73 

ers  and  waistcot,  a  grey  vest,  jacket  and  trowsers,  a  pair  of  stock- 
ings, a  pair  of  shoes  and  a  cap.  This  was  not  a  complete  outfit. 
I  was  short  a  pocket  handkerchief  and  a  neck-tie,  but  orders  were 
issued  that  I  was  not  to  have  these. 

I  am  sure  that  in  the  certificate  of  conviction  sent  with  me  to 
prison  a  "  bad  character  "  was  sent  with  it  in  consequence  of  the 
course  I  pursued  at  my  trial,  if  I  may  call  it  a  trial.  After  being 
dressed  I  was  taken  into  the  registry  office.  My  height  I  believe 
was  five  feet  nine  inches  and  a  half,  my  hair  was  fair,  my  eyes  were 
blue,  my  mouth  and  nose  were — well,  I  will  not  say  what  they  were 
— I  always  thought  I  had  a  handsome  mouth  and  nose,  at  least  I 
thought  others  thought  I  had,  but  my  admirers  on  this  occasion 
were  people  of  very  little  taste,  and  their  opinion  on  these  things 
is  not  worth  much  to  those  interested  in  such  matters;  however, 
they  wound  up  with  describing  my  features  as  "  average,"  and  sent 
me  from  their  department  to  the  next  manipulator.  He  escorted 
me  to  my  cell,  and  giving  his  commands  to  two  others,  they  came, 
one  holding  a  candle  and  the  other  a  razor.  The  first  gentleman 
told  me  "  sit  down  on  that  stool  there,"  and  drawing  a  scissors  out 
of  his  pouch  he  commenced  clipping  away  at  my  beard.  Whenever 
lie  had  occasion  to  say  "hold  up  your  head,"  "turn  your  head  this 
way,"  or  "turn  your  head  that  way,"  he  said  it  in  as  gruff  a  voice 
as  he  could  command,  and  I  obeyed  in  silent  admiration  of  the 
power  that  I  was  now  subject  to.  While  using  the  scissors  on  my 
face  he  scarred  me  a  little.  He  asked  did  he  hurt  me,  and  I  said, 
"  Oh,  governor,  never  mind."  The  man  with  the  razor  next  came 
on,  and  as  he  moved,  my  eyes  fell  on  the  face  of  the  man  who 
was  holding  the  candle,  and  they  began  to  swim  in  their  sockets. 
It  was  the  first  time  I  got  soft  during  my  imprisonment ;  but 
when  I  saw  the  tears  streaming  down  the  cheeks  of  this  Irish- 
hearted  jailer  who  was  holding  the  candle,  I  could  not  restrain  my 
own  from  starting. 

After  being  shaven  I  was  led  to  have  my  picture  taken.  The 
photographer  had  a  large  black-painted  pasteboard  prepared,  with 
my  name  painted  across  it  in  white,  and,  pinning  it  across  my 
breast,  he  sat  me  in  position.  I  remained  sitting  and  looking  ac- 
cording to  instructions  till  he  had  done,  and  he  never  had  the  man- 
ners to  tell — what  artists  never  failed  to  tell  me — that  I  made  an 
exceedingly  good  picture .  The  rules  are  read  to  me,  and  I  see 
that  one  of  them  says  that  I  can  write  a  letter  on  reception  into 
prison.  I  ask  for  pen,  ink  and  paper,  and  I  am  told  that  I  cannot 
have  the  benefit  of  that  rule,  that  there  are  special  instructions  in 
my  case,  and  that  I  cannot  write  until  there  are  special  orders. 
The  first  day  of  my  imprisonment,  here  are  these  special  instruc- 
tions to  treat  us  exceptionally.  I  would  not  grumble  or  wonder  if, 
as  political  prisoners,  it  were  exceptionally  better;  but  no,  it  was 
exceptionally  worse  than  the  worst  criminals  of  society.  I  respect- 
fully demanded  that  I  be  allowed  to  write  to  a  member  of  parliament 


74  G1  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

about  the  illegal  conduct  of  the  judges  at  my  trial.  No,  no;  I 
could  not  write,  and  I  may  as  well  put  the  thought  of  doing  so  out 
of  my  head. 

I  went  into  prison  determined  to  bear  all  things  patiently, 
determined  to  obey  in  everything,  as  I  conceived  that  the  dignity 
of  the  cause  of  liberty  required  that  men  should  suffer  calmly 
and  strongly  for  it ;  but  the  more  obedient  and  humble  I  was,  the 
more  my  masters  showed  a  disposition  to  trample  upon  me — the 
more  they  felt  disposed  to  give  us  that  annoyance  which  had  no 
other  object  but  to  torment  us. 

I  have  often  asked  myself  what  was  the  motive  of  worrying  us 
as  they  did,  and — waiving  the  question  of  killing  us  or  driving  us 
mad — I  see  no  other  object  in  view  but  that  of  making  us  so  tired 
of  our  lives  that  we  would  beg  for  mercy,  or  beg  to  be  let  alone; 
and  that  would  be  a  great  thing  for  the  English  Government  to 
have  to  show  to  the  world,  that  here  were  those  Irish  revolution- 
ists, who  were  so  stubborn  in  the  dock,  now  on  their  knees.  The 
Irish  in  America,  and  the  Irish  all  the  world  over,  would  feel  hum- 
bled, and,  if  our  own  spirit  would  allow  it,  it  might  be  as  well  that 
we  had  given  them  reason  to  do  so,  in  view  of  the  little  good  we 
appear  to  have  done  outside  Ireland  by  doing  differently. 

My  cell  was  about  ten  feet  by  seven.  It  contained  a  water- 
closet,  a  table,  a  stool,  a  hammock-bed  made  like  a  coffin  and  about 
two  feet  broad  at  the  top,  a  salt  box,  a  tin  box,  a  tin  pint,  and  a 
spoon.  I  got  a  pound  weight  of  oakum  to  pick  the  first  day,  and 
I  picked  about  two  ounces  of  it,  which  was  not  bad  for  a  beginner. 
I  went  to  bed  at  eight  o'clock,  and,  immediately  after,  I  was  roused 
Up  and  ordered  to  put  out  my  clothes  through  the  trap  door.  This 
also  was  something  that  was  not  required  of  ordinary  prisoners; 
but  in  consequence  of  the  flight  of  James  Stephens  from  them, 
they  were  afraid  the  fairies  would  fly  away  with  us.  Every  fifteen 
minutes  of  the  night  the  trap-door  of  my  cell  was  opened  by  two 
officers;  one  of  them  held  a  bull's-eye  lantern  towards  my  head, 
and  if  he  did  not  see  my  face  he  kept  calling  me  until  I  put  in  an 
appearance.  Then  there  were  two  soldiers  outside  my  cell  window 
who  kept  calling  "  all  right  "  to  each  other  every  half  hour. 

This  continued  night  after  night.  For  ten  nights  I  was  here 
I  never  got  an  hour's  sleep.  I  read  of  some  Eastern  tyrants 
that  tortured  their  prisoners  by  preventing  them  from  sleeping, 
and  I  experienced  that  torture  under  the  government  of  these 
sanctimonious  people  who  denounce  it  to  the  world  when  it  is  in- 
flicted by  any  one  but  themselves. 

My  breakfast  was  gruel  and  milk;  my  dinner  and  supper  bread 
and  milk;  and  two  days  in  the  week  we  got  meat  for  dinner.  I 
got  an  hour's  exercise  in  the  open  air  each  day,  and  in  this  matter 
I  was  treated  exceptionally  also.  The  ordinary  prisoners  were  ex- 
ercised in  companies,  but  I  was  exercised  alone,  save  that  in  the 
ring  in  which  I  walked  there  was  a  goat  tied  by  a  rope  to  a  stake. 


(y Donovan  Rosscis  Prison  Life.  75 


Two  warders  and  a  soldier  kept  guard,  and  the  goat  seeing 
I  was  so  lonely  seemed  to  take  compassion  on  me  ;  for  as  I 
approached  the  part  of  the  circle  where  he  was  tethered  he  would 
I  run  towards  me  and  butt  gently  with  his  head  as  if  he  desired 
to  make  my  acquaintance.  Sometimes  I  had  to  catch  him  by  the 
horns  to  put  him  off  my  course,  for  I  could  not  step  off  a  flag 
which  was  about  eighteen  inches  wide  and  ran  around  inside  the 
iron -railed  enclosure.  The  warders  ordered  me  to  go  round  with- 
out having  anything  to  do  with  the  goat ;  they  would  order  the 
,  goat,  too,  but  the  genial  little  soul  seemed  to  despise  them  and 
their  regulations;  he  did  not  care  for  the  rules  and  would  be  re- 
fractory by  running  to  meet  me,  so  that  they  put  him  out  of  the 
yard  altogether. 

The  second  day  of  my  residence  in  Mountjoy  my  cell-door 
opened,  and  who  came  in  but  an  Irish  priest.  I  was  only  a  short 
time  out  of  the  world,  and  yet  I  well  recollect  how  delighted  I  was 
to  see  any  one  belonging  to  it,  and  to  see  a  priest,  too;  for,  perhaps, 
the  dormant  tradition  of  my  younger  days  was  revived,  that  it  was 
in  periods  of  darkness  and  difficulty  the  Irish  priest  clung  to  the 
Irish  people,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  could  forget  the  past,  if  the  pastor 
could  do  so,  and  be  friends  for  the  future. 

He  told  me  his  name  was  Father  Cody,  and  that  he  was  a  Kil- 
kenny man. 

Then,"  said  I,  "you  have  the  honor  of  belonging  to  James 
Stephen's  county." 

We  had  some  half  an  hour's  talk,  much  of  which  I  do  not  now 
remember.  He  looked  at  the  oakum  I  had  to  pick,  and  told  me  I 
need  not  worry  myself  with  it  at  first,  but  do  a  little.  He 
asked  me  had  I  any  books,  and  I  said  no.  Then  he  told  me  he 
would  get  me  some,  and  going  out,  he  brought  me  in  a  new  Testa- 
ment, a  Prayer-Book,  and  the  Lives  of  the  Saints,  and  "Think 
Well  of  It."  I  got  no  secular  book,  and  if  I  did  I  could  not  do 
much  with  it,  as  my  mind  was  not  sufficiently  calmed  down  for 
study.  The  priest  asked  what  induced  me  to  take  the  defiant 
course  I  did  at  my  trial,  and  I  said  I  saw  myself  doomed,  and 
thought  I  might  as  well  have  the  value  of  my  money  out  of  them 
as  be  standing  in  apparent  awe,  silently  looking  on  at  the  farce 
of  giving  me  a  trial.     As  he  was  about  to  leave  he  said  : 

"  Well,  on  my  word,  I'm  so  disappointed  in  you." 

"  How  is  that,  Father  ?"  said  I. 

"  Why,"  replied  he,  "I  thought,  and  we  all  thought  here,  that 
you  were  crazy,  or  that  you  were  one  who  had  some  kind  of  un- 
governable temper  that  no  reason  could  control." 

I  smiled  at  the  words.  He  bid  me  adieu  for  that  day,  saying 
he  would  call  next  day  again.  The  door  closed,  and  I  found  my- 
self in  the  congenial  society  of  my  own  thoughts. 

I  knew  that  Pagan  O'Leary,  and  Mr.  Luby,  and  Mr.  O'Leary, 
and  Mr.  Haltigan,   and  Mr.  Moore  had  preceded  me  to  Mountjoj 


76  O Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

Prison,  but  I  never  could  get  a  sight  of  them.  For  the  hour 
during  which  I  was  exercised,  I  strained  my  eyes  in  every  di- 
rection that  I  could  give  a  squint,  but  I  never  got  a  glance  at  one 
of  them.  I  was  taken  to  chapel  on  Sunday,  but  I  was  put  into  a  box 
which  had  blinkers  at  each  side  of  it;  I  could  see  only  the  backs 
of  the  other  prisoners.  I  believe  my  companions  were  placed  in 
similar  boxes  alongside  of  me.  These  compartments  are  arranged 
for  very  refractory  characters,  and  before  we  had  time  to  acquire 
any  prison  reputation  at  all  we  were  ushered  into  them. 

It  was  on  Christmas  Eve,  the  eleventh  day  of  my  conviction, 
that  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  bull's-eye  patrol  ordered 
me  to  get  out  of  bed;  he  threw  my  clothes  in  through  the  trap- 
door, and  told  me  to  dress  in  a  hurry.  He  handed  me  a  piece  of 
bread  and  a  pint  of  milk,  and  told  me  to  waste  no  time  in  eating 
my  breakfast. 

"What  is  all  this  about,  Governor?"  said  I. 

"  Never  mind  what  it  is  about,"  answered  he  ;  "  do  what  you're 
told  and  ask  no  questions." 

While  I  was  engaged  in  carrying  out  that  part  of  the  order 
which  related  to  my  breakfast,  the  door  was  opened  and  three  or 
four  persons,  dressed  in  men's  clothes,  came  into  my  cell.  One  of 
them — that  was  not  Dr.  M'Donnell,  who  always  spoke  very  civilly 
to  me — felt  my  pulse  and  pronounced  me  fit  for  a  journey.  Out 
they  went  without  any  ceremony,  and  left  me  thinking  that  I  was 
going  somewhere,  but  whereto  was  the  puzzle.  A  few  minutes 
after  I  was  ushered  into  one  of  the  large  halls  and  placed  along- 
side of  five  other  men.  I  could  not  take  a  good  look  at  them, 
as  I  was  adhering  to  the  orders  always  to  look  to  my  front  and 
never  turn  my  head  sideways.  I  thought  I  would  become  a  splen- 
did prisoner,  and  get  a  most  excellent  character  for  myself  by  obe- 
dience to  the  rules  and  adherence  to  the  precepts.  When  I  was  a 
young  man  a  young  girl  once  flattered  me  by  saying  I  had  the  hap- 
py gift  of  making  myself  amiable  in  every  society  in  which  I  mix- 
ed. This  was  at  a  time  of  life  when  my  mind  was  susceptible  of 
impression,  and  she  made  this  impression  on  it — so  much  so  that  I 
never  go  into  any  company  without  thinking  that  I  can  make  my- 
self very  agreeable,  and  never  know  till  I  am  told  afterwards  by 
some  acquaintance,  more  candid  than  she  of  my  early  days,  how 
very  ridiculous  I  make  myself.  This  feeling  of  mine  followed  me 
into  prison,  and  did  not  forsake  me  for  years.  Not  until  I  had 
been  worn  down  to  a  skeleton,  and  the  old  flesh  worn  off  my  bones, 
and  the  old  thoughts  worn  out  of  my  mind  did  I  come  to  learn  thai 
all  the  arts  of  my  nature  could  not  make  me  agreeable  company. 
My  jailers  could  never  see  in  me  the  gift  that  the  arch  little  girl 
flattered  into  me.  All  my  efforts  to  be  amiable  were  of  no  avail. 
I  found  that  I  had  been  cheating  myself,  and  I  had  to  change  my 
tactics.     But  I  will  come  to  this  by  and  bye. 

When  ranged  alongside  the  other  prisoners  I  took  advantage 


O* Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  77 

of  the  officer's  eyes  being  off  of  me  to  open  my  ear  wide  and  whis- 
per to  the  man  next  to  me,  "  where  are  we  going  ?"  He  replied,  "  I 
don't  know."  I  knew  his  whisper.  I  looked  at  him,  cried  out, 
"  Luby;"  he  replied,  "  Kossa,"  and  we  had  a  shake  hands.  The  offi- 
cer frowned  at  us,  but  I  got  a  little  courage,  and  I  thought  it  was 
not  much  harm  to  look  at  Mr.  O'Leary,  and  the  Pagan,  and  the 
others,  giving  them  a  nod  of  recognition,  though  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty I  recognized  them.  The  handcuffs  came  ;  Luby  was  next 
to  me  ;  they  were  fitted  on  him  first  and  then  I  was  tied  to  him. 
His  hand  was  very  small,  and  I  told  the  jailer  that  the  irons  were 
too  small  for  my  hand,  but  he  was  in  a  hurry  and  could  get  no 
others,  so  I  had  to  suffer  to  feel  my  wrist  bound  in  an  iron  that 
was  crushing  the  bones  of  it. 

The  order  came  lor  us  to  move,  and  we  were  conducted  into  the 
"  black  van."  Six  jailers  were  put  in  with  us.  We  were  ail  locked 
up;  the  wheels  rumbled  over  the  pavements  of  Dublin;  the  cavalry 
galloped  alongside,  and  on  we  went  for  an  hour  or  more,  not 
knowing  to  what  quarter  of  the  world  we  were  bound.  The  irons 
were  tormenting  me,  and  as  the  horses  stopped  I  remarked  that  it 
was  not  at  all  necessary  for  my  safety  to  bind  me  so  tight.  One 
officer  said  he  could  do  nothing  in  the  matter;  he  turned  the  bull's 
eye  of  his  lantern  to  look  at  my  hand,  and  as  the  light  fell  on  the 
face  of  another  jailer  beside  me,  I  saw  the  tears  streaming  down  his 
cheeks.  I  know  the  man's  name,  and  I  know  the  name  of  the  other 
man  whose  sympathy  showed  itself  in  his  eyes  while  I  was  being 
shorn,  but  it  would  not  do  to  mention  names  here;  these  men  may 
be  jailers  still,  and  I  am  not  going  to  injure  them.  What  I  wit- 
nessed in  them  only  tended  to  confirm  an  opinion  I  long  entertain- 
ed— that  a  red  coat,  a  green  jacket,  or  a  jailer's  livery  may  cover  as 
Irish  a  heart  as  any  in  Ireland.  If  we  had  any  kind  of  a  decent 
fight  many  of  these  would  have  wavered  in  that  allegiance  which 
the  poverty  of  their  pockets  alone  forced  them  into,  and  turn  to  that 
allegiance  which  they  sucked  in  with  their  mother's  milk;  and  I  for 
one  do  not  blame  them  for  not  being  the  first  to  start  into  rebellion, 
nor  will  I  have  a  hard  word  to  say  even  to  those  who,  in  the  Eng- 
lish service,  were  my  captors  and  my  prosecutors.  They  may  live, 
they  may  even  die  in  the  enemy's  service  and  doing  the  enemy's 
work,  but  I  will  give  them  credit  for  wishing  to  serve  their  country, 
or  wishing  they  had  a  country  to  serve.  That  these  will  not  be  the 
first  to  commence  hostilities  to  England  I  am  confident,  and  I  am 
just  as  certain  that  the  comfortable  and  well-to-do  classes  will  not 
be  the  first  either. 

In  Ireland  the  United  Irishmen  were  not  considered  respectable 
by  the  "  respectables,"  because  it  wa*  the  poor  people  worked  up 
the  society.  It  commenced  below  and  worked  its  way  upwards  to 
a  position  of  respect;  it  did  not  commence  above  and  work  down, 
for  the  snobbery  above  could  not  condescend  to  communicate  with 
the  masses.     Snobbery  had  something  to  lose,  and  said  thai   the 


78  0s Donovan  Eossas  Prison  Life 

"  mob'  that  were  risking  their  lives  had  nothing  to  lose  and  aimed 
at  getting  possession  of  what  snobbery  possessed. 

The  movement  was  not  respectable,  said  our  "  respectable"  folk, 
and  they  never  tried  to  make  it   so  by  coming  into  it  themselves. 

The  same  thing  had  been  said  in  America  of  the  Fenian 
movement,  and  the  "  respectable"  Irish  patriots  there  never  set 
to  work  themselves  to  establish  what,  according  to  their  views, 
would  be  a  respectable  movement.  They  can  complain  and  cavil 
very  well  at  what  they  dislike,  and  make  their  disliking  an  excuse 
for  their  inaction,  but  they  never  do  anything  else  It  is  useless  to 
be  wasting  words  upon  such  folk;  their  existence  does  not  commence 
in  our  day  or  in  our  nation;  they  have  existed  in  all  times  and 
amongst  all  peoples,  and  we  will  have  to  do  our  work  without  them; 
nay,  against  them,  for  they  will  permit  nothing  to  be  done  or  own 
nothing  is  go-  d  that  is  not  done  by  themselves. 

When  I  speak  of  the  poor  people  having  to  fight  the  battles  of 
every  country,  I  am  not  to  be  understood  as  saying  that  we  had 
none  to  fight  the  battle  for  Irish  independence  bnt  those  "who  had 
nothing  to  lose."  The  snobs,  the  shoneens  in  Ireland  who  could  be 
so  grand  as  to  drive  a  one-horse  gig,  though  they  could  hardly 
afford  to  pay  for  the  c  ats  the  staggeen  of  a  horse  would  eat,  would 
sneer  at  the  independent  farmer  or  mechanic — though  he  could  buy 
him  out  of  house  and  home,  his  staggeen  and  his  gig  into  the  bar- 
gain, and  quadruple  his  brains,  too — working  for  the  cause  of  Ire- 
land. The  misfortune  is,  here  and  there,  that  fallen  fortunes  are  not 
respectable;  and,  though  we  can  afford  to  talk  and  sing  of  the  mar- 
tial deeds  o  f  Fion  MacCumhail  and  the  chivalrous  glories  of  Brian 
the  Brave,  we  cannot  afford  to  do  anything  practical  in  emulation 
of  them:  that  would  entail  labor,  and,  perhaps  a  little  sacrifice, 
and  we  need  not  undergo  this  while  we  can  purchase  the  name  of 
patriot  and  make  profit  by  it  in  a  cheaper  manner. 

This  morning  of  my  removal  from  Ireland,  when  I  was  taken 
out  of  the  "  black  van,"  I  looked  around  me  to  see  where  I  was,  and 
I  found  myself  on  the  pier  of  Old  Dunleary.  The  steamer  was  be- 
fore me,  ready  to  sail  for  England,  and  between  me  and  the  steamer 
were  two  rows  of  soldiers,  between  whom  I  and  my  companions 
wended  our  way  to  the  ship.  It  was  a  dark  December  morning, 
and  the  appearance  the  redcoats  presented  through  the  mist  told 
us  it  was  considered  an  occasion  of  the  greatest  importance.  Arrived 
at  the  boat,  I  had  the  honor  to  be  helped  on  board  by  the  Dublin 
detectives  who  had  arrested  us.  They  were  there  to  see  us  off,  and  to 
see  whatever  else  would  be  interesting  to  them  in  the  prosecution  of 
their  labors  for  "  maintenance  ot  law  and  order." 

The  ship  sa.led.  The  day  was  breaking  as  we  were  parting 
from  that  land  whose  soil  we  were  to  tread  no  more,  unless  against 
the  will  and  power  of  those  whose  rule  has  been  a  curse  to  it  for 
centuries.     I  had  my  feelings  on  the  occasion,  but  I  kept  them  in 


Cf  Donovan  Hossas  Prison  Life.  79 

ny  breast,  where  I  always — well,  nearly  always — keep  them,  when 
I  can  do  no  good  by  keeping  them  elsewhere. 

I  was  about  an  hour  at  sea  when  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me 
to  make  a  little  noise  about  those  irons  that  were  crushing  my  hand. 

My  wrist  was  quite  swollen.  I  showed  it  to  the  jailers  and  I 
asked  if  I  could  not  have  some  relief  now  that  we  were  safe  out  of 
Ireland.  The  Deputy-Governor  of  Millbauk  Prison  came,  with  six 
of  his  jailers,  to  the  Irish  shore  to  take  charge  of  us,  and  I  asked  if 
I  could  not  see  the  officer  in  command,  in  order  that  now,  as  we 
were  going  to  a  free  country,  I  might  be   supplied  with  freer  irons. 

Whenever  I  felt  sore  or  sad  about  my  treatment  in  the  hands  of 
those  people  I  always  made  it  a  point  never  to  make  my  sorrows 
known;  and  as  well  as  I  could  I  laughed  and  joked  away  many 
things  that  were  galling  to  me,  and  that  were  meant  to  be  so. 
This  annoyed  my  masters  more  than  anything  else,  and  my  own 
friends  could  not  understand  how  it  was  becoming  in  me  to  be  gay 
under  such  very  serious  and  solemn  circumstances;  and  to  this  dis 
position  of  mine  I  believe  I  owe  the  fact  of  my  wife  not  being  a 
widow  to-day,  for  had  I  given  way  to  passion  on  every  indignity 
being  heaped  upon  me,  I  would  have  burned  myself  up  long  ago. 
On  the  occasion  of  my  asking  for "'  freer  irons  as  we  were  going  to  t 
free  country,"  I  was  reminded  by  one  of  my  companions  that  it  was 
a  most  unsuitable  time  far  a  display  of  wit.  This  put  a  damper 
upon  me.  I  don't  know  that  it  wasn't  it  made  me  sea-sick,  for  I  be- 
gan discharging  my  stomach  immediately ;  indeed  it  may  have 
put  some  grave  manhood  in  me  also,  for  I  demanded  that  I  should 
seethe  superior  officer  immediately,  or  I  would  try  and  get  some- 
thing to  break  the  irons.  Captain  Wallack  came,  examined  my 
hand,  said  the  handcuffs  were  a  little  tight,  had  me  untied  and 
chained  to  Michael  Moore,  and  having  released  Pagan  O'Leary 
from  Mr.  Moore,  he  had  him  tied  to  my  partner,  Mr.  Luby. 

I  cannot  land  on  the  chores  of  England  for  a  few  hours,  and  as 
I  have  spoken  of  my  companions  here,  I  may  occupy  the  rest  of  the 
voyage  in  speaking  a  little  more  of  them. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  name  of  O'Leary  twice,  and  it  is  necessary 
to  be  understood  that  I  speak  of  two  distinct  characters 
that  have  sometimes  been  confounded  one  with  the  other. 
Pagan  O'Leary  is  not  John  O'Leary,  nor  is  John  O'Leary  the 
Pagan.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  find  two  men  more  different  from 
each  other,  or  any  man  more  ready  than  either,  each  in  his  own 
way,  to  risk  life  in  an  honest,  earnest  endeavor  for  Irish  independ- 
ence. John  O'Leary  was  editor  of  the  Irish  People.  The  two  other 
writers  of  it  were  Charles  J.  Kickham  and  Thomas  Clarke  Luby. 
They  were  three  men  whose  acquaintance,  whose  friendship,  and 
whose  esteem  any  man  may  feel  proud  to  have,  and  I  would  feel 
proud  to  be  worthy  of.  If  I  would  say  that  at  the  time  I  was  work- 
ing with  them  I  loved  Kickham,  admired  Luby  and  reverenced 
O'Leary,  I  would  be  saying  what  I  thought  of  them,  and  thinking 


80  O  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

this  is  all  the  clue  that  I  can  give  my  readers  here  as  to  the  charac* 
ters  of  the  men.  My  pen  is  too  poor  to  do  them  justice;  they  still 
live,  and  I  hope  will  live  to  do  something  worthy  of  their  ambition 
to  serve  their  country. 

The  Pagan  is  a  soldier,  and  I  do  not  know  that  he  aspires  to  be 
anything  else.  But  he  has  also  a  capacity  for  other  work,  if  we 
may  judge  from  his  labors  in  Ireland.  He  had  gone  from  America 
to  Ireland  three  times  to  fight,  and  three  times  he  had  not  got  the 
chance  of  firing  a  shot.  He  was  arrested  at  Athlone  in  November, 
'64,  and  charged  with  attempting  to  swear  English  soldiers  into 
Irish  revolutionists.  It  was  urged  at  his  trial  that  he  had  been 
traveling  through  Ireland  and  corrupting  the  army,  and  he  was 
sentenced  to  seven  years'  penal  servitude.  He  had  a  wonderful  in- 
fluence over  these  soldiers,  and  if  his  work  and  that  of  others  who 
worked  in  the  same  department  had  been  vigorously  utilized  in  '65 
we  might  have  a  different  story  to  tell  to-day. 

The  Pagan  did  not  cease  his  work  in  prison  ;  he  made  friends 
there  too  ;  and  some  of  them  proposed  to  Edward  Duffy  and  my- 
self to  effect  his  escape  before  conviction.  We  communicated  the 
proposal  to  "  The  Captain,"  and  he  decided  that  it  would  bring 
the  strength  of  our  organization  too  much  under  the  notice  of  the 
Government,  and  that  it  was  better  policy  to  leave  one  man  to  suffer 
than  to  make  an  alarm  and  give  the  Government  grounds  for  adopt- 
ing repressive  measures  which  would  interfere  with  the  steps  we 
were  taking  to  relieve  the  national  suffering. 

The  Pagan  was  in  Mountjoy  Prison  before  my  arrest,  and  I  at- 
tempted to  get  at  seeing  him,  but  was  not  able  to  succeed.  One  day 
I  found  myself  in  possession  of  a  ticket  giving  permission  to  visit 
the  place  of  his  confinement,  and  proceeded  there  with  my  plans 
arranged  to  try  and  get  a  word  or  a  whisper  with  him  by  hook  or 
by  crook.  I  found  myself  and  Cornelius  Dwyer  Kane  and  a  few 
others  inside  the  prison  walls,  and  a  few  officers  detailed  to  show 
us  round.  We  went  to  look  at  the  chapel,  and,  as  it  was  there  I 
had  meditated  to  sound  my  purpose,  I  asked  the  guide  about  the 
several  religious  denominations,  and  told  a  tale  of  an  institution  I 
knew  that  gave  protection  to  a  man  once  who  wo  aid  not  belong  to 
any  religion  unless  there  was  a  Pagan  temple  in  the  place. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  we  have  just  such  another  case  here." 

"Here  in  Dublin!"  said  I,  in  amazement. 

"  Here  in  this  very  prison,"  replied  he. 

And  then  he  proceeded  to  tell  me  about  the  Pagan's  refusal  to 
belong  to  any  religious  denomination;  but  when  they  kept  punish- 
ing him  for  the  offence  he  at  length  consented  to  attend  the  Roman 
Catholic  place  of  worship. 

"  Is  he  out  of  his  mind  ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  for  I  have  not  much  communication  with 
him  ;  but  I  suppose  he  is." 


C?  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  81 

"  And  do  you  allow  him  to  associate  with  the  other  prisoners  V 
"  Oh,  no;  he  is  in  a  separate  cell  by  himself.     I  will  show  it  to 
you  by  and  by  when  we  are  passing." 

"  By  Jove,  I  should  like  to  have  a  peep  at  such  an  odd  character." 
On  we  went.  I  had  my  mind  fixed  on  that  cell  where  the  Pagan 
was  confined,  and  one  of  my  hands  was  playing  with  a  few  silver 
crowns  I  had  in  my  pocket,  when  a  prison  bell  rang,  and  the  Gov- 
ernor sent  word  to  us  that  as  some  of  the  prisoners  were  about  to 
go  to  prayers  he  was  obliged  to  ask  us  out  ;  but  if  we  came  at  a 
more  propitious  hour  he  would  be  very  happy  to  afford  us  longer 
time  for  observation.  We  left  without  having  attained  our  object, 
and  I  did  not  enter  Mountjoy  Prison  again  till  I  entered  it  a  convict. 


CHAPTER  VIL 


In  England  —  Christmas  Eve  —  London — Pentonville  Prison — 
Stripped  of  Flannels — Clothes  Searched — Naked — Cell  and 
Cell  Furniture — Solitary  Confinement — Cold  and  Hunger — 
Christmas  Fare— My  Trade  and  Occupation — Reading  the  Rules 
— Forbidden  to  Write — The  Doctor — Airing  or  Exercise  in  the 
Refractory  Yard — My  Library — The  Prison  Directions — 
Dreams  of  Happiness. 

The  telegraph,  must  have  carried  the  news  that  we  were  bound 
for  "  the  land  of  the  brave  and  the  free,"  for,  as  the  ship  approached 
Holyhead,  the  pier  was  crowded  with  spectators.  The  company  of 
soldiers,  who  accompanied  us  from  Ireland,  were  drawn  up  on  the 
quay,  and  we  ran  the  gauntlet  between  them  to  the  railroad  carriage 
that  was  in  waiting  for  us.  After  a  few  hours  we  arrived  at  Chester. 
One  of  our  keepers  was  called  out  by  the  officer  in  command,  and 
coming  back,  he  brought  a  meat-pie  and  divided  it  between  us. 
My  two  hands  were  bound  to  those  at  each  side  of  me;  they  would 
not  unbind  me  while  I  was  eating,  and  whenever  I  put  my  hand  to 
my  mouth  the  hand  of  some  one  of  my  companions  had  to  accom- 
pany it.  Not  alone  for  eating  they  would  not  loose  my  hands,  but 
they  would  not  loose  them  for  anything  else.  It  is  some  hundreds 
of  miles  from  Holyhead  to  London.  Our  journey  took  from  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  to  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  One  might 
think  that  once  we  were  in  England  our  masters  would  have  no 
scare  about  our  safe  keeping;  but  no,  the  scare  never  left  them,  and 
they  never  left  us  to  the  ordinary  vigilance  to  which  other  convicts 
were  left,  though  they  were  continually  telling  us  that  there  was  no 
difference  between  us  aud  them.  These  people  preach  very  much 
to  others  about  propriety  and  decency  of  behaviour,  while  they  out- 
rage every  principle  of  both  in  their  treatment  of  those  whom  they 
hold  as  their  enemies.  When  we  went  to  the  closet  on  board  the 
steamboat,  the  sentinel  kept  opening  the  closet- door  every  half- 
minute  lest  we  should  attempt  an  esccape  through  the  pipes  or 
through  the  port-hole,  and  they  would  not  for  any  consideration 
allow  us  off  the  railroad  car  while  we  were  on  the  journey  from 
Holyhead  to  London. 

It  was  Christmas  eve,  and  at  every  station  we  could  see  the  filled 
hampers  that  were  being  taken  to  their  homes  by  the  merry  people 


0' Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  83 

of  "  merry  England,"  who  were  going  to  have  a  happy  Christmas. 
How  could  it  be  helped  if  we  had  sad  thoughts  at  the  reflection 
that  those  near  and  dear  to  us  were  to  have  a  poor  time  of  it. 
Some  very  nicely  regulated  minds  can  derive  pleasure  under  any 
circumstances  from  seeing  people  happy,  but  I  confess  that  on  this 
occasion  my  equanimity  was  not  much  improved  by  witnessing  the 
gaiety  of  a  Christmas  time  that  I  could  but  very  poorly  enjoy. 
How  often  in  prison  did  I  feel  inclined  to  bear  testimony  to  that 
truth  the  poet  sings — 

"  That  a  sorrows'  crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier  things." 

I  have  no  doubt  that,  as  another  poet  sings,  the  memories  of 
the  pleasant  past  are  always  pleasant  when  you  are  in  a  position  to 
repeat  the  enjoyment,  but  locked  up  in  prison,  and  debarred  from 
all  the  world's  enjoyment,  the  recollection  of  the  jolly  times  I  had 
spent  in  the  past  did  not  come  to  me  with  any  soothings  for  the 
gloomy  present. 

Our  train  arrived  at  Euston-square  Station,  London,  about  8 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  there  was  a  little  army  of  jailers  and 
policemen  waiting  for  us  on  the  platform.  They  had  with  them 
two  of  those  vans  which  are  kept  for  transferring  criminals  from 
the  courts  to  the  prisons,  and  into  these  we  were  ushered.  So  close  a 
place  of  confinement  I  was  never  in.  The  compartments  were 
about  two  feet  square,  and  I  was  locked  up  in  one  of  these  after 
having  been  unbound  from  the  others  and  getting  a  whole  pair  of 
handcuffs  to  myself.  The  horses  galloped  through  the  streets  of 
London,  and  I  got  no  glimpse  of  light  again  till  I  was  taken  out  of 
my  coop  when  inside  the  gates  of  Pentonville  prison.  As  I  was  as- 
cending the  steps  to  the  front  door  of  my  future  residence  one  of 
the  jailers  that  was  in  waiting  to  receive  me  caught  hold  of  me  by 
the  shoulder,  and,  as  he  clutched  me,  said,  "  Get  up,  Paddy."  Talk 
as  you  may  of  bearing  imprisonment  properly,  and  with  that  sub- 
mission which  becomes  a  man,  you  cannot  talk  my  blood  into  cool- 
ness or  good  behavior  under  certain  provocations;  it  will  get  hot 
and  rush  to  the  head,  as  it  did  when  the  fellow  addressed  me  with 
his  "G-et  up,  Paddy."  My  first  impulse  was  to  stop  his  tongue 
with  a  blow,  and  my  being  a  convict,  or  my  being  in  prison,  or  my 
being  in  the  midst  of  my  enemies,  would  not  have  prevented  his 
getting  it,  if  I  were  not  manacled. 

The  governor  of  the  prison  took  a  look  at  us  as  we  stood  in  one 
of  the  large  halls,  and  having  examined  the  papers  that  were 
brought  with  us,  gave  us  over  to  the  petty  officers  to  be  put  through 
and  located.  We  were  ordered  to  strip  as  we  stood  in  line,  and  I 
threw  off  my  shoes,  my  jacket,  trousers  and  vest.  Thinking  this 
much  was  enough,  I  stopped,  and  one  of  the  surveyors  cried  out, 
"  Why  don't  you  strip  ?"  I  asked  him  had  I  not  taken  off  as  much 
as  was  necessary,  and  he  said,  "  No,  take  off  those  stockindgs  an 


84  0  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

that  shirt,"  and  in  a  short  time  the  six  of  us  stood  naked  on  the 
flags. 

There  we  were  in  a  row,  quite  naked  before  the  gaze  of  these 
officials,  and  then  commenced  that  examination  of  us  which  cannot 
well  be  described,  but  which  left  au  impression  on  our  minds  never 
to  be  effaced.  These  English  people  speak  of  their  sense  of 
decency — nay,  they  have  laws  in  the  interest  of  morality  that  punish 
wanton  exposure  of  the  person,  but  such  gross  ruffianism  as  at- 
tended our  entrance  into  a  residence  in  the  civilized  city  of  London 
is  something  that  should  be  put  an  end  to,  even  in  a  convict  prison. 

I  had  been  blessing  my  stars  on  account  of  the  removal  from 
Ireland  to  England,  for  now  I  thought  that  the  fears  of  our  masters 
were  removed,  I  could  have  rest  and  liberty  to  write  to  my  family, 
I  gave  the  English  credit  for  their  magnanimity  and  for  their  desire 
to  treat  us  decently  when  their  scare  was  over,  but  "if  Hive  to  be  as 
old  as  Methuselah"  they'll  never  have  such  credit  from  me  again. 
The  first  practical  experience  I  had  in  England  of  their  dark 
designs  regarding  us  was  in  the  dressing  of  us.  They  took  our 
Irish  clothes  away  when  they  had  stripped  us,  and  opposite  to 
where  we  stood  were  six  little  parcels,  placed  each  about  three  feet 
apart  from  its  neighbors,  which  turned  out  to  be  our  six  suits  of 
clothes.  Number  one  in  the  line  of  prisoners  took  number  one  of 
the  parcels,  number  two  two,  and  so  on  until  we  were  all  sup- 
plied. The  first  thing  I  looked  for  were  the  flannels,  bufc  I 
looked  for  them  in  vain.  I  asked  where  was  the  inside  clothing, 
and  was  told  there  was  none.  I  remarked  that  I  had  got 
flannels  in  Ireland,  that  I  had  just  taken  them  off,  and  I  asked 
that  if  new  ones  were  not  given  to  me  I  may  be  supplied 
with  the  old  ones,  but  all  to  no  use.  Our  reception  had  been  pre- 
pared for  us,  and  the  doctor  of  the  prison  had  decided  that  we 
were  to  have  no  flannels  at  reception.  This  was  the  most  cruel 
treatment,  for  it  was  mid-winter  and  the  snow  was  covering  the 
ground.  To  give  any  idea  by  words  of  the  cold  I  experienced,  is 
what  I  could  not  do,  and  when  hunger  came  with  cold  it  is  surpris- 
ing that  so  many  of  us  lived  the  time  through. 

When  the  six  of  us  were  dressed  we  were  led  to  our  cells, 
and  no  two  of  us  were  placed  in  the  same  ward  of  the  prison.  I 
asked  the  warder,  who  had  charge  of  me  if  I  could  not  have  a 
warm  drink  of  some  kind,  as  I  felt  fatigued,  and  cold  and  thirsty. 
He  said  he  would  get  me  my  supper  in  a  few  minutes,  and  that  is 
all  he  could  do.  He  lit  the  gas,  and,  putting  the  k^y  in  the  door 
before  he  shut  me  in,  said  he  would  be  back  in  a  few  minutes.  The 
few  minutes  passed,  and  back  he  came  with  a  piece  of  bread  an  i 
piece  of  cheese.  "Officer,"  I  said,  "where  is  the  warm  drink?' 
'  Warm  drink  !"  exclaimed  he,  as  if  in  surprise  at  my  presumption, 
"  there  is  y-  ur  warm  drink,"  pointing  to  a  water  tap  that  was  fixed 
over  the  water  closet  which  the  cell  contained,  "there  is  your  pint 
and  you  have  everything  in  your  cell  that  is  necessary  for  you.     I 


(J  Donovan  RossaJs  Prison  Life.  85 

am  going  to  leave  you  now  for  half-an-hour  while  you  are  eating 
your  supper,  at  the  end  of  that  time  I  will  be  back,  and  let  you 
bave  your  body-clothes  made  up  in  a  bundle  to  put  outside  the 
door  as  well  as  every  moveable  article  of  furniture  you  have  in 
your  cell,  for  there  is  nothing  to  be  left  with  you  during  the  night 
that  can  be  taken  away  from  you."  "  All  right,  governor,"  said  I, 
"I'll  try  to  do  the  best  I  can  for  you."  He  turned  his  big  key  upon 
me,  and  I  turned  my  attention  to  my  supper  and  my  bed.  I  took 
the  tin  vessel  and  turned  the  tap  and  drank  a  pint  of  cold  water. 
I  filled  again  and  finished  a  second  pint.  The  bread  and  cheese 
remained  untouched  for  want  of  appetite,  and  then  I  proceeded  to 
make  my  bed.  That  consisted  of  a  board  seven  feet  by  three,  with 
a  few  other  boards  about  eight  inches  high  nailed  on  the  head  by 
way  of  a  pillow;  a  mattress  about  half  an  inch  thick,  not  quite  so 
hard  as  the  board,  two  sheets,  a  blanket  and  a  rug.  I  made  my 
bed,  and  it  was  making  a  hard  bed  for  myself,  but  I  suppose  I  had 
been  at  that  a  long  time.  I  took  off  my  body-clothes  and  folded 
them  up  nicely,  according  to  instructions,  so  as  to  have  them  ready 
to  put  outside  the  door  when  the  officer  came.  The  table,  the  pint, 
the  timber  plate,  the  timber  spoon,  the  timber  salt  cellar,  the  towel, 
the  soap,  the  stool,  and  the  Bible  were  the  only  moveable  articles 
in  my  cell,  and  these  I  had  arranged  in  proper  order  to  put  out- 
side the  door  when  the  orders  came.  I  always  liked  to  get  the 
character  of  being  a  good  boy.  I  am  terribly  weak  in  desiring  chat 
every  one  that  I  have  anything  to  do  with  should  have  a  good 
opinion  of  me,  and  be  thoroughly  pleased  with  me,  and  on  this  oc- 
casion I  had  worked  so  diligently  to  make  a  good  impression  upon 
my  keeper  that  I  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  standing  undressed  in 
my  bedroom  before  the  door  was  unlocked.  I  put  out  my  furni- 
ture article  after  article,  and  every  article  I  put  out  was  counted 
and  noted  by  the  guardians.  The  name  of  one  of  them  was  Web- 
ber, and  some  way  or  other  getting  a  civil  word  from  him  I  com- 
menced talking  to  him  about  an  Englishman  named  Webber  whom 
I  knew  at  Skibbereen.  He  spoke  rather  civilly,  and  I  thought  if 
he  was  to  be  my  keeper  I  could  get  along  pretty  well  with  him,  but 
he  was  not  left  long  in  charge  of  me.  My  light  was  put  out,  my 
door  was  locked.  I  lay  on  my  bed,  and  tried  to  warm  myself  by 
wrapping  the  clothes  tightly  around  me,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  I 
could  do  nothing  better  than  shiver  the  whole  night  through.  Six 
o'clock  in  the  morning  came,  my  door  was  opened,  I  got  a  lamp  to 
light  my  gas,  took  my  clothes  and  my  furniture,  and  commenced 
the  day's  work.  But  except  dressing  and  eating  there  was  no  work 
to  be  done  this  day,  for  it  was  Sunday.  I  got  my  breakfast,  which 
consisted  of  a  pint  of  cocoa  and  eight  ounces  of  bread;  the  drink  I 
swallowed  greedily,  but  I  could  not  touch  the  food.  Dinner  hour 
came  at  twelve  o'clock.  I  got  eight  ounces  of  bread  and  four 
onnces  of  cheese,  but  my  stomach  refused  to  receive  either  of 
mem.     Supper  followed   at  five — this   came  in   the  shape   of  six 


86  O Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life: 

ounces  of  bread  and  a  pint  of  porridge,  and  that  was  our  Sunday 
course  at  Pentonville  while  we  remained  there.  At  half-past  seven 
o'clock  the  bell  rang  to  prepare  for  bed,  the  previous  night's  oper- 
ation had  to  be  gone  through — my  little  room  was  gutted  of  its 
contents,  my  body  clothes  were  laid  outside,  and  I  was  left  nothing 
but  that  comfortless  bed  and  board.  To  sleep  here  was  nearly  as 
impossible  as  in  Dublin.  It  is  true  I  was  weary  and  wanted  sleep, 
but  the  intense  cold  I  felt  kept  me  shivering  and  shaking.  How- 
ever, if  the  cold  was  bad  when  first  you  went  to  bed  and  tried  to 
go  to  sleep,  it  was  far  worse  when,  after  a  few  hours  of  uneasy 
slumber,  you  awoke  still  shivering  and  shaking  with  the  terrible 
prospect  of  shivering  and  shaking  for  several  hours  before  the  time 
to  get  up  and  get  back  your  clothes.  In  the  way  of  mere  physical 
discomfort  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  experienced  anything  worse 
than  these  early  morning  hours  in  Pentonville. 

Doubtless,  what  I  went  through  afterwards  was  far  worse  as  re- 
gards bodily  pain;  but  then  I  had  become  as  it  were  wedded  to 
suffering.  But  I  must  let  the  future  speak  for  itself.  What  I  have 
here  to  speak  of  is  the  horrible  sensation  of  cold  in  the  morning 
in  those  cheerless  Pentonville  cells.  It  was  not  so  much  the  inten- 
sity of  the  cold,  for  probably  the  cold  was  not  so  intense,  as  the 
abominable  feeling  of  always  awaking  cold,  and  the  hopeless  and 
helpless  feeling  that  there  was  no  prospect  of  going  to  sleep  again, 
and  no  possible  way  of  getting  warm  till  the  bell  rang  and  you 
were  allowed  to  get  up  and  put  on  your  clothes.  The  remembrance 
of  these  physical  sufferings  is,  as  a  general  rule,  excessively  fugi- 
tive and  short-lived — you  are  hungry,  thirsty,  hot  or  cold,  and  you 
feel  sharply  and  forget  quickly;  but  I  do  not  think  I  shall  ever  for- 
get those  Pentonville  mornings.  Few  people  would  find  the  occu- 
pation of  blackening  a  floor  a  very  pleasant  one;  but  I  can  assure 
my  readers  that  I  felt  very  positive  pleasure  in  scrubbing  my  cell 
until  I  brought  back  the  warmth  to  my  benumbed  body,  and  the 
power  of  active  thinking  to  my  half  torpid  brain. 

To  brighten  this  black  floor  required  vigorous  exertion  with  the 
two  brushes  that  were  supplied  to  each  of  us,  and  though  I  went  to 
the  work  with  a  wiii,  for  the  purpose  cf  bringing  the  blood  into  cir- 
culation, when  the  job  was  done  an  exhaustion  ensued,  for  which  a 
healthy  man  would  be  laughed  at  if  he  was  working  in  company ; 
but  my  readers  must  always  bear  in  mind  that  English  prison  dis- 
cipline would  not  allow  us  more  food  or  clothes  than  was  barely 
necessary  to  sustain  life,  and  when  I  was  not  able  to  eat  this  food 
during  the  first  days  of  my  residence  in  London,  matters  went 
pretty  hard  with  me. 

Some  mornings,  hard  as  I  worked  at  the  floor — which  was  made 
from  a  composition  of  some  black  stuff* — and  willing  as  I  was  to 
work  for  my  own  purpose,  I  could  not  please  my  warder.  He  kept 
continually  telling  me  that  I  should  put  more  elbow  grease  on  it. 
When  he  spurred  me  I  took  the  spur   and   brushed   the    harder. 


O* Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  87 

Seeing,  I  suppose,  that  I  was  a  rather  tractable  individual, 
and  willing  to  do  my  best,  he  one  morning  put  his  hand  in  hia 
pocket,  and  pulling  out  a  piece  of  something  like  shoemaker's  heel 
ball,  said,  "Here,  rub  this  to  the  floor,  and  brush  it  well  off  after- 
wards, and  you  will  have  less  trouble  in  bringing  on  the  polish. 
I  am  not  allowed  to  give  this  to  the  prisoners,  and  you  will  take 
good  care  not  to  use  too  much  of  it  at  a  time."  I  thanked  him,  and 
showed  by  the  life  I  put  into  the  scrubbing-brush  as  he  stood  look- 
ing at  me  that  I  appreciated  his  kindness. 

The  second  day  I  spent  at  Pentonville  was  Christmas  Day.  My 
Christmas  breakfast  was  eight  ounces  of  bread  and  three-quarters  of 
pint  of  cocoa.  MyChristmas  dinner  was  four  ounces  of  meat,  five  ounces 
of  bread,  and  one  pound  of  potatoes;  and  my  supper  seven  ounces  of 
bread  and  a  pint  of  porridge.  The  dinner  was  given  to  me  in  a  tin 
having  two  compartments,  in  one  of  which  was  the  meat  and  in 
the  other  the  potatoes.  The  porridge  and  the  cocoa  were  measured 
into  my  own  pint,  which,  with  every th.ng  else  I  used,  was  to  be 
brightened  up  after  each  meal.  I  was  allowed  a  knife,  a  plate,  and 
a  spoon.  The  knife  was  a  bit  of  tin  about  four  inches  long  and  an 
inch  and  a-half  wide.  The  snoon  was  a  timber  one,  substantial 
enough  by  its  thickness  to  fill  my  mouth,  and  the  plate  was  timber 
also.  1  had  a  comb  and  a  brush  about  two  inches  long  and  one  in 
width;  but  as  I  never  saw  the  like  of  this  brush  before,  and  did  not 
know  whether  it  was  intended  for  a  hair  brush  or  a  nail  brush,  I 
seldom  or  ever  used  it.  I  had  two  leather  knee  caps  to  wear  when 
I  was  polishing  the  floor,  and  these,  with  my  stool  and  table,  con- 
stituted my  household  furniture. 

In  one  corner  of  the  cell  was  a  kind  of  open  cupboard  fixed  in 
the  walls,  on  which  my  bed-clothes  were  to  be  placed,  nicely  folded 
to  a  regulated  height  and  breadth.  My  towel  was  also  to  be  folded 
np  in  a  particular  manner  with  my  bit  of  soap  in  the  middle  of  it, 
and  open  to  the  view  of  the  "  principal,"  who  came  in  every  morning 
to  see  if  everything  was  in  order.  It  took  me  an  hour  to  fold 
these  things,  and  if  they  were  not  folded  so  as  to  please  the 
officer,  he  pulled  them  off  the  shelf  and  threw  them  about  the 
floor,  ordering  me  to  go  at  them  again.  A  man  does  not  like  to 
have  any  of  his  handiwork  treated  with  contempt,  and  when  I 
thought  I  had  my  cell  made  up  in  the  nicest  manner  possible,  it 
tested  my  patience  to  see  this  gentleman  come  and  toss  everything 
upside  down.  Indeed,  I  believe  he  did  it  for  the  very  purpose  of 
testing  it,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  that  was  to  be  proof 
against  every  irritation. 

My  gas  burner  had  a  little  brass  tip,  and  this  was  to  be  kept 
brightly  burnished.  The  water-pipe,  turned  one  way,  flowed  into 
my  wasning  basin,  which  was  also  of  brass,  and  turned  another  way 
it  flowed  into  a  close  stool  which  was  fixed  in  my  narrow  and 
badly-ventilated  apartment;  all  the  brasses  connected  with  closet, 
and  tap  and  washing  apparatus  had  to  be  kept  shining  bright:  tile 


88  O  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

timber  cover  of  the  close  stool,  tlie  table,  the  stool,  the  plate  and  the 
spoon  had  to  be  kept  nearly  white  as  snow. 

Christmas  day  passed  rather  heavily  on  my  hands.  It  was  one 
of  those  dark  London  foggy  days,  and  my  window  being  made  of 
thick  semi-transparent  glass,  which  sunlight  will  not  penetrate,  and 
that  will  let  in  as  little  daylight  as  possible,  it  may  be  imagined 
that  I  had  a  gloomy  time  of  it. 

At  night  my  ribs  and  my  hips  felt  the  proximity  of  the  hard 
board,  so  much  so  that  after  a  time  the  skin  on  those  parts  of  my 
body  on  which  I  was  accustomed  to  lie  became  quite  rough,  and 
I  found  that  in  the  kind  of  sleep  I  got  I  learned  to  roll  mechanically 
from  side  to  side  every  fifteen  minutes  or  so  without  waking.  I 
have  not  thoroughly  got  rid  of  the  habit  yet.  I  have  read  of  a  saint 
who,  when  he  was  in  the  flesh,  was  obliged  to  lie  upon  iron  spikes, 
and  so  accustomed  did  he  become  to  lying  on  such  a  bed,  that  when 
he  was  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  doing  so  he  could  not  sleep 
upon  a  softer  one,  and  went  back  to  his  iron  couch  for  repose.  It 
is  here  that  I  find  myself  lacking  the  virtues  that  go  to  make  a  saint. 
I  never  sigh  after  the  clawr  bug  dale  of  my  procrustean  bed,  nor 
would  I  ever  care  to  go  back  to  it.  Yet  it  has  not  such  terrors  for 
me  as  that  I  would  not  run  the  risk  of  embracing  it  again  with  a 
fair  chance  of  success  in  the  attainment  of  the  object  of  my  ambi- 
tion— a  chance  that  will  come  with  better  auspices  when  better 
spirits  come,  or  broader  or  better  views  come  into  the  minds  of 
those  who  profess  to  be  working  to  bring  it  about,  and  then  it  is  not 
the  bed  of  an  English  prison  I  would  risk,  but  that  of  a  prison  from 
which  there  is  no  earthly  release. 

Tuesday  morning,  the  26th  December,  '65,  dawned  npon  me  ; 
the  bell  rang  to  get  out  of  bed  at  six  o'clock,  the  little  trap  door 
was  opened,  and  a  little  lamp  was  handed  to  me  to  light  my  gas 
with,  and  my  breakfast  followed.  There  was  an  air  of  business,  or 
a  noise  of  business  in  the  whole  concern  just  now,  that  I  did  not 
notice  either  of  the  preceding  two  days.  It  was  the  first  working 
day  since  we  came,  and  there  was  a  pretty  busy  time  of  it  in  in- 
stalling us  in  office.  At  nine  o'clock  I  was  conducted  from  my 
apartment  to  the  centre  of  the  large  hall  of  the  prison.  By-and-by 
I  saw  John  O'Leary  approach  me,  and  one  after  one  my  companions 
appeared  from  different  parts  of  the  prison  till  the  six  of  us  stood 
in  line.  The  deputy-governor,  a  gentleman  named  Farquharson — 
if  etiquette  will  allow  me  to  call  him  a  gentleman — made  his  ap- 
pearance with  the  rules  and  regulations  in  his  hand.  In  the  bustle 
of  preparation  to  do  some  important  business,  John  O'Leary  whis- 
pered to  me  "This  is  hell."  "Yes,"  said  I,  "hell  open  to  sinners;" 
and  a  hellish-looking  place  it  was,  this  prison  of  her  Britannic  Ma- 
jesty, with  all  the  spirits  that  had  liberty  to  pass  to  and  fro,  having 
the  gloomy,  grizzly  air  of  the  unfortunate  little  devils  that  we  are 
told  keep  watch  and  ward  in  the  dark  corridors  of  the  prison  of  his 
satanic  majesty. 


O Donovan  Rossd  s  Prison  Life.  89 

We  were  marched  into  line,  and  being  called  to  attention,  Far- 
quharson  stood  opposite,  and  commenced  to  read  the  rules. 
Our  caps  were  off,  our  hands  and  feet  in  the  military  position,  and 
if  one  may  judge  by  our  motionless  behavior,  we  were  as  attentive 
as  possible.  Here,  as  in  Mountjoy,  one  of  the  rules  declared  that 
every  prisoner  could  write  a  letter  on  reception,  and  here,  as  in 
Mountjoy,  this  rule  was  set  aside  for  our  benefit,  for  when  I  asked 
to  write,  I  was  told  that  I  could  not  do  so  until  special  instructions 
came  in  my  case.  I  was  beginning  to  get  cured  of  the  notion  that 
we  were  brought  to  England  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  generous 
treatment,  and  I  began  soon  to  realize  that  these  great  peo- 
ple positively  brought  us  to  their  country  for  the  purpose  of 
having  us  more  surely  under  their  thumb,  and  being  better  able  to 
persecute  us  without  fear  of  exposure,  besides  having  the  pleasure 
of  witnessing  their  victims  undergoing  their  tortures,  and  fretting 
under  the  wanton  annoyances  to  which  they  subjected  them.  We 
were  to  be  as  ordinary  prisoners — no  difference  between  us  and  any 
other  convicts — yet,  the  ordinary  rules  were  set  aside,  and  special 
instructions  received  to  treat  us  worse  than  the  thieves  and  mur- 
derers of  England. 

When  the  rules  were  read  for  us,  we  were  measured  and  weighed, 
and  I  heard  the  officer  cry  out,  "  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa  five- 
nine-and-a-half,  eleven-eight."  The  "eleven-eight"  told  me  I  had 
lost  some  twenty  pounds  of  my  flesh  since  I  left  the  world.  Back 
to  our  cells  again,  every  warder  taking  his  own  prisoner  with  him, 
my  door  was  locked,  and  no  sooner  locked  than  opened  again  with, 
the  order  to  strip  off  e  /erything  but  my  trowsers  and  shoes.  I 
obeyed  orders.  "Here  now,"  says  my  guardian,  pulling  down  my 
bed  that  was  nicely  folded,  tossing  it  about  the  floor  and  keeping 
the  rug  in  his  hand,  "  take  this  and  put  it  about  you."  I  did  so. 
He  stood  at  the  door  and  directed  his  eyes  to  a  particular  part  of 
the  prison;  the  signal  came,  and  pointing  to  me  with  his  club  to  go 
on  before  him,  I  advanced.  "Forward,"  "Look  to  your  front," 
"To  the  left,"  "Eight,"  "Look  to  your  front/'  "To  the  right," 
and  thus  he  drove  me  through  the  corridors  and  around  the  corners 
until  he  cried  "  Halt"  opposite  a  cell,  which  contained  a  loom  and 
an  individual  dressed  in  civilian's  clothes.  In  I  went,  and  the  indi- 
vidual ordered  me  to  take  off  the  rug.  He  felt  my  pulse,  examined 
my  chest,  and  went  at  me  like  a  doctor  of  the  establishment,  and 
as  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  have  a  word  with  that  gentlemen  when 
I  met  him,  I  asked  if  I  might  ask  him  a  question,  and  his  reply  was 
yes.  "  Are  you  the  medical  officer  of  the  establishment  ?"  "  Yes." 
And  getting  this  affirmative  reply,  I  said,  "  Doctor,  when  I  arrived 
at  this  prison  I  was  stripped  of  the  flannels  I  had  and  got  none  in 
exchange.  I  asked  for  some,  and  was  told  that  you  had  ordered 
none  for  us;  I  feel  intense  cold,  and  I  make  an  application  to  you 
for  more  clothing." 

"  I  cannot  give  you  any  more  than  you  have." 


90  O  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

"Very  well.     I  have  discharged  my  duty  to  myself  in  making 
the  application." 

"That  will  do. 
"Right  about  face,"  cried  my  jailer,  at  the  instant,  as  if  he  knew 
that  the  "  that  will  do"  of  the  doctor  was  the  signal  that  I  was 
polished  off;  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  locked  up  in  my  cell 
and  dressed  myself.  By-and-by  the  door  was  again  opened  and  the 
order  again  given  to  prepare  for  exercise.  I  stepped  outside  the 
door,  and  as  the  order  was  given  to  open  my  jacket,  to  open  my  waist- 
coat, to  take  of  my  shoes,  to  take  off  my  cap  to  unbutton  my  braces,  to 
extend  my  hands,  and  keep  my  feet  apart,  I  did  each  in  turn,  and 
the  warder,  as  the  prison  phraseology  has  it,  "rubbed  me  down" — 
that  is,  he  put  his  two  hands  at  the  back  of  my  neck,  and  felt  the 
collars  all  around;  he  slipped  his  hands  inside  my  unbuttoned 
braces,  till  his  fingers  met  behind  my  back,  then  he  manipulated 
every  inch  of  my  body,  front  and  rear;  he  seized  one  arm  of  mine 
between  his  hands,  and  felt  it  down  to  the  tips  of  my  fingers;  he 
did  the  same  to  the  other;  then  he  laid  hold  of  a  leg  and  searched 
along  till  he  came  to  the  big  toe,  and  after  repeating  the  procees  on 
the  second  leg,  he  finished  by  rubbing  his  palms  over  my  cropped 
skull.  "Button  up;"  "forward;"  look  to  your  front,"  "to  the  right," 
"to  the  left,"  "halt."  I  stood,  and  while  the  gate  was  opening,  I 
took  a  side  squint  and  saw  Pagan  standing  about  thirty  yards  be- 
hind me;  his  officer  had  ordered  him  to  halt,  lest  he  should  come  too 
near  me.  I  saw  by  the  precautions  taken  to  keep  us  from  getting  a 
look  at  any  other  prisoner  that  the  orders  regarding  us  here  must 
be  very  stringent,  and  that  they  were  special  and  exceptionally 
severe,  even  in  the  manner  of  giving  us  the  hour's  exercise.  In 
this  prison  all  the  convicts  on  first  reception  are  exercised,  or  rather 
aired,  in  one  large  yard.  Here  there  are  three  circles,  one  within 
another,  the  arc  of  each  being  a  flagging  about  eighteen 
inches  wide.  The  convicts  walk  on  these  flags,  and  in  three  differ- 
ent places  between  each  circle  there  are  raised  pathways,  on  which 
the  officers  walk,  and  have  a  view  of  the  whole  ring.  The  prison- 
ers walk  about  four  paces  apart,  and  if  one  of  them  is  detected 
attempting  to  pass  a  whisper  or  a  sign  of  recognition  to  another  he 
is  immediately  sent  into  his  cell  and  held  under  report  for  puuish- 
ment.  I  did  not  get  my  hour's  airing  in  this  yard;  the  place  I  was 
taken  to  was  one  specially  built  and  meant  for  the  taming  of  refrac- 
tory characters,  and  before  they  gave  us  any  trial,  or  even  a  chance 
to  become  refractory,  they  treated  us  as  such.  A  man's  clothes  or 
cell  furniture  are  not  taken  from  him  at  night  unless  he  has  at- 
tempted to  escape  or  to  break  his  prison;  a  man  is  not  sent  into  the 
coach-wheel  for  his  airing  unless  he  has  been  sent  back  from  an- 
other prison  to  be  kept  in  solitary  confinement  all  hours,  in  doors  as 
well  as  out  of  doors,  but  none  of  these  preliminaries  to  punish- 
ment seemed  to  be  required  in  our  case. 

It  was  taken  for  granted  that  we  were  bad,  and  we  got  the  bene- 


Q  Donovan  Rosso:  s  Prison  Life.  91 

fit  of  what  the  worst  state  of  things  would  allow.  To  make  you 
thoroughly  understand  what  the  coach-wheel  yard  is,  you  may 
imagine  a  large  wheel,  100  feet  in  diameter,  lying  on  the  ground,  it 
has  fifty  spokes,  and  on  every  spoke  there  is  built  a  wall  ten  feet 
high.  Between  every  two  of  these  walls  one  of  us  is  confined  for 
an  hour  each  day.  The  rim  of  the  wheel  is  an  iron  grating,  around 
which  the  Governor  walked  occasionally  and  obliged  us  to  give  him 
a  military  salute.  Toward  the  centre  of  the  wheel  a  door  enters  or 
opens  from  every  compartment,  and  within  the  stock  or  the  hub  of 
the  wheel  is  a  room  in  which  the  officer  keeps  a  watch  upon  the 
convicts. 

If  the  victim  of  the  law  stoops  to  pick  up  a  pretty  pebble,  or 
stops  to  scratch  a  word  on  one  of  the  bricks,  he  is  challenged  im- 
mediately, and  it  is  surprising  the  number  of  people  who  risk  the 
challenge,  if  one  may  judge  from  the  number  of  scratches  on  the  brick 
wall, which  is  alive  with  observations  of  all  'dnds.  One  stone  bears  the 
record  of  the  conviction  of  "  Stepeney  Joe,"  and  the  unmentionable 
offence  for  which  he  was  convicted ;  another  tells  how  the  pig  was  sent 
back  to  Portland  and  the  piggish  crime  he  committed;  a  third 
brings  the  news  how  "the  Prince's  gal"  after  the  Prince  was  "lag- 
ged" went  to  live  with  "Crow;"  a  fourth  informs  the  solitary  public 
that  the  governor  is  a  brute,  and  so  on  to  any  number  and  every 
variety  of  running  commentary  upon  things  in  general.  'Twas  a 
recreation  in  solitude  to  read  the  evidence  of  live  beings  being 
around,  even  though  you  did  not  see  them,  it  was  the  dead  wall 
speaking  to  you,  and  though  the  language  had  not  the  chastity  of 
death  about  it,  still  it  brought  you  more  cheer  than  if  there  were 
no  traces  of  life  to  be  seen.  You  came  to  read  "cheer  up" — 
"  cheer  up,"  so  often,  or,  at  least,  I  came  to  read  it,  that  I  felt  my- 
self growing  sympathetic  towards  the  writers.  During  my  time  in 
prison  my  masters  sought  to  punish  me  by  putting  me  in  close  asso- 
ciation with  them,  and  I  as  often  kicked  against  it ;  but  let  me  here 
confess  the  truth,  I  would  choose  their  society  before  the  society  of 
my  own  thoughts  in  dark  solitude;  and  if  I  often  spurned  it  and 
went  back  to  the  loneliness  of  my  cell  and  the  poverty  of  bread 
and  water,  I  did  it  more  in  opposition  to  the  authority  that  would 
degrade  an  Irish  "  rebel "  to  herd  with  its  criminals  than  from  any 
choice  I  had  for  my  own  company.  If  you  who  shudder  at  the 
thought  of  contact  with  the  vilest  of  human  beings  test  the  strength 
of  your  horror  and  contamination  by  two  or  three  years'  solitary 
confinement,  you  may  change  a  little.  The  sight  of  a  human  face, 
no  matter  how  deformed,  and  the  sound  of  a  human  tongue,  no  mat- 
ter how  vile,  is  a  gladsome  thing  to  me,  if  I  am  any  considerable 
length  of  time  out  of  reach  of  either. 

"  I  like  the  Frenchman,  his  remark  was  good, 
How  sweet,  how  passing  sweet,  is  solitude, 
But  give  me  still  a  friend  in  my  retreat 
Whom  I  may  whisper — '  Solitude  is  sweet.' " 


92  G1  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life. 

When  the  first  hour's  exercise  was  over  in  the  refractory  prison- 
er's yard,  I  was  ordered  to  my  cell,  with  every  precaution  taken  that 
I  should  not  see  any  one  else  on  my  way  to  it.  One  of  the  prison 
schoolmasters  calls,  and  says  it  is  necessary  to  classify  me,  in 
order  to  give  me  suitable  reading.  He  tells  me  to  read  a  little 
for  him,  then  he  puts  me  down  as  No.  3,  and  he  leaves  me  a  book 
about  birds'  nests.  I  thought  I  should  be  blessed  in  getting  some- 
thing to  feed  my  mind  on,  but  what  he  gave  me  was  of  little  use. 
Class  3  was  a  class  of  very  moderate  attainments,  and  he  thought 
there  was  no  use  giving  me  heavy  matter  to  read.  I  suppose  that, 
in  going  through  the  exercise  he  gave,  the  cold  made  me  shiver  and 
stutter,  and  made  him  judge  I  had  learned  my  primer.  I  was  sup- 
plied with  a  set  of  religious  books,  consisting  of  a  "  Garden  of  the 
Soul,"  a  "Think  Well  on  It,"  a  "Poor  Man's  Catechism,"  and  a 
"New  Testament."  The  schoolmaster  also  gave  me  a  grammar 
and  an  arithmetic,  which,  with  the  religious  books,  I  could  keep  al- 
ways with  me,  and  told  me  the  other  book  would  be  changed  once 
every  fortnight.  He  left  me  a  slate  and  pencil,  and  said  I  would 
get  one  hour's  schooling  every  week,  and  he  wonld  call  to  see  what 
progress  I  was  making,  but  this  schooling  we  did  not  receive  until 
we  were  about  six  weeks  in  the  prison.  After  the  schoolmaster  was 
gone  a  most  important  individual  visited  me  in  the  shape  of  a  Prison 
Director.  He  was  accompanied  to  the  cell  by  the  Governor  and 
three  of  the  warders,  and  the  moment  the  door  turned  on  its 
hinges,  the  three  sub-officers  cried  out,  one  after  another,  "  Atten- 
tion, attention,  attention !"  I  stood  to  my  feet,  my  cap  was  on  my 
head  when  the  key  was  turned  in  the  door,  and  I  left  it  on.  I  was 
ordered  to  take  it  off,  and  I  did.  The  Governor  told  me  I  should 
never  wear  my  cap  while  in  my  cell;  that  I  should  always  keep  it 
hanging  on  the  bell-handle,  and  [that  [it  was  only  given  to  me  to 
be  worn  out  of  doors.  I  said  that  my  head  was  shaven  so  close,  and 
my  clothing  was  so  light,  that  I  felt  intense  cold  and  felt  more  com- 
fortable with  my  cap  on.  The  Director  said  I  had  as  much  clothing 
as  the  regulations  allowed — that,  if  more  was  necessary,  the  doctor 
would  order  it  for  me,  but  that  the  discipline  of  the  prison  should 
be  maintained  before  every  thing  else.  The  big  man's  name  was 
Gambier,  and  he  and  I  became  afterwards  very  much  acquainted 
with  each  other.  'Twas  no  social  acquaintance,  but  one  in  a  line  of 
business.  It  was  his  duty  to  order  the  infliction  of  punishment, 
and  mine  to  go  before  him  to  hear  the  indictment  against  me.  He 
was  a  tall,  smooth-tongued  old  gentleman  of  about  seventy,  with 
very  white  hair,  a  glass  eye,  and  a  large  red,  jolly-looking  nose, 
which  I  could  never  look  at  without  thinking  of  the  good  old  times 
of  Irish  whisky  punch  and  jolly  company.  He  could  order  you  fifty 
lashes  on  the  bare  back  and  twenty-eight  days  on  bread  and  water, 
in  the  most  pathetic  tones  of  regret  that  your  bad  behavior  and  the 
necessity  of  maintaining  discipline  called  for  it;  and  you'd  think  his 


CP  Donovan*  jfioosdt  Prison  Life.  93 

glass  eye,  as  well  as  his  unglazed  one,  was  swimming  in  tears  over 
your  misery. 

Captain  Gambier  gave  orders  to  put  me  to  tailoring,  and  told  me 
the  more  obedient  I  was  and  the  more  industrious,  the  better  it 
would  be  for  myself.  I  asked  him  if  I  could  not  write  that  reception 
letter,  which  the  rule  on  that  card — pointing  to  the  regulations  on 
the  wall — says  every  prisoner  is  entitled  to  write  on  his  arrival. 
He  said  he  had  no  power  to  allow  me  to  write,  but  that,  no  doubt, 
a  time  would  come  when  I  would  be  allowed. 

Some  fifteen  minutes  after  this  party  left  me,  an  officer  brought 
me  needle  and  thread,  a  thimble  and  scissors,  and  told  me  to  prac- 
tice stitching  on  a  piece  of  jacket  stuff  he  laid  on  the  table.  "Sew 
it  all  round,  and  when  you  have  one  circle  of  stitches  made  make 
another  circle  an  inch  farther  in,  and  so  on  until  you  have  the  whole 
piece  sewed  up.  When  you  have  practice  enough  to  enable  you  to 
stitch  pretty  well,  I  will  give  you  a  jacket  to  make;  but  stop,  I 
must  cut  this  thread  shorter."  "  Why,  Governor,"  said  I,  "  'tis 
short  enough  already  ?"  "  That's  no  matter,"  said  he,  "  I  must  obey 
my  orders,"  and  he  cut  my  skein  of  housewife  thread  to  about  twelve 
inches  in  length.  This  was  lest  I  should  have  thought  of  manufac- 
turing any  of  it  into  a  rope  for  escape.  'Twas  an  annoyance  to  be 
threading  my  needle  after  every  few  stitches,  but  'twas  foolish  of 
me  to  get  annoyed  at  trifles  of  this  kind.  My  time  belonged  to 
my  owners,  and  if  they  set  me  threading  needles  all  day,  I  could 
not  grumble ;  'twas  not  about  my  work  they  cared,  but  about 
worrying  me. 

Tuesday's  dinner  was  four  ounces  of  meat,  five  ounces  of  bread, 
and  a  pound  of  potatoes.  My  appetite  had  not  come  to  me  yet, 
and  I  did  not  feel  at  all  in  good  humor.  I  had  seven  or  eight 
small  loaves  of  bread  accumulated  in  my  cupboard  ;  the  officer  told 
me  that  was  against  the  regulations,  and  I  should  either  eat  them  or 
have  them  removed,  as  the  law  did  not  allow  more  than  one  day's 
bread  to  remain  in  the  cell  of  any  prisoner.  I  told  him  I  could  not 
eat  it,  and  on  his  asking  me  if  I  would  permit  him  to  take  it  away, 
I  replied;  "  of  course,  yes."  As  he  was  counting  the  loaves,  I  said, 
"  where,  Governor,  is  Mr.  Webber.  I  have  not  seen  him  since  the 
first  night  ?"  Did  you  know  Mr.  Webber  ?"  he  inquired.  I  answered 
"  No,  but  I  knew  an  English  namesake  of  his."  "  Well,"  added  he, 
you  won't  see  Mr.  Webber  here  for  awhile  again."  From  the  few 
words  that  were  heard  to  pass  between  Webber  and  me  the  first 
night  it  was  feared  we  knew  each  other;  he  was  advising  me  to 
keep  quiet,  to  do  everything  I  was  told,  and  that  in  a  short  time  I 
would  get  used  to  the  place.  I  thought  he  spoke  kindly  and  I 
thanked  him;  but  some  other  officer  listening  made  a  story  of  it, 
and  he  was  removed. 

The  history  of  one  day — Vitam  continet  una  dies — contains  the 
history  of  nearly  every  day  of  prison  life ;  the  same  cheerless  food; 
the  same  solitary  confinement ;  the  same  dreary  monotony ;  except 


94  Q Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

that  if  you  grew  discontented  with  any  of  these  things  you  could 
have  a  change  for  the  worse  in  dark  cells,  bread  and  water,  hand- 
cuffs, or  anything  that  way  you  desired  to  choose  as  a  variety  ;  and 
I  grew  into  such  a  state  of  mind  that  to  get  a  change,  even  from  bad 
to  worse,  was  a  kind  of  relief  to  me. 

The  rising  at  six  was  the  same  every  day  of  the  week ;  the 
breakfast  of  eight  ounces  of  bread  and  three-quarters  of  a  pint  of 
cocoa  was  the  same;  the  polishing  of  the  floor,  the  making  up  of  the 
bed,  the  searching  before  getting  the  hour's  airing,  with  an  ad- 
ditional hour  every  second  day;  and  the  same  searching  when  re- 
turning to  your  cell;  the  eternal  stitch,  stitch,  stitch,  with  the  spy 
stealing  around  in  soft  slippers,  spying  in  occasionally  to  see  if  he 
could  catch  you  idle,  and  report  you;  the  supper  of  seven  ounces  of 
bread  and  one  p^u'  of  porridge  at  six  o'clock;  the  hour  and  a-halfs 
work  afterwards  till  you  prepared  your  bed  and  had  your  furniture 
to  put  outside  the  door,  and  your  clothes  packed  up  to  put  out  at 
eight,  when  the  gas  was  turned  off,  and  you  were  left  to  twist  and 
turn  to  ease  your  ribs  till  morning. 

'Twas  all  the  same  in  everything,  except  the  dinner,  and  in  this 
there  were  four  changes  a  week.  Two  days  there  was  a  quarter  of 
a  pound  of  beef;  two  days  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  mutton.  One 
day,  Thursday,  a  flour  pudding  that  would  take  the  stomach  of  an 
ostrich  to  digest.  One  day,  Wednesday,  a  pint  of  soup,  without 
any  solid  meat,  and  Sunday  four  ounces  of  cheese  for  dinner,  with- 
out meat  or  drink,  unless  you  chose  to  drink  water. 

You  were  supposed  to  be  at  work  from  breakfast  hour  in  the 
morning  until  half-past  seven  in  the  evening,  except  that  you  had 
one  hour  for  dinner;  and  if  you  were  in  a  mood  for  study  this  left 
you  fifty-five  minutes  to  read,  for  with  the .  ravenous  appetite  you 
were  sure  to  get,  if  you  were  not  in  a  dying  state,  you  could  devour 
all  the  food  you  had  in  less  than  five  minutes.  After  the  first  three 
days  my  appetite  returned  to  me,  and  my  craving  for  food  be- 
came intense;  it  was  the  greatest  imaginable  pleasure  to  me  to 
have  enough  to  eat.  Many  a  day  and  many  a  night  I  regretted 
having  allowed  the  warder  to  take  away  those  six  little  loaves  of 
bread  that  accumlated  in  my  cell  after  my  arrival;  and  often  did  I 
say  to  myself  what  a  fool  I  was.  For  four  years  this  feeling  of 
hunger  never  left  me,  and  I  could  eat  rats  and  mice  if  they  came 
in  my  way,  but  there  wasn't  a  spare  crumb  in  any  of  these  cells  to 
induce  a  rat  or  mouse  to  visit  it. 

In  reading  books  of  battle  and  adventure  when  I  was  a  little 
fellow  I  never  could  realize  to  myself  that  any  condition  of  exist- 
ence would  make  me  eat  dead  horses  and  dead  cats,  such  as  besieged 
armies  were  described  as  eating,  but  my  prison  life  did  away  with 
the  boyish  notion,  and  I  do  not  now  wonder  at  any  story  of  canni- 
balism when  the  stomach  craved  food.  I  used  to  creep  on  my 
hands  and  knees  from  corner  to  corner  of  my  cell  to  see  if  I  could 
find  the  smallest  crumb  that  might  have  fa*' en  '*^a  me  when  I  was 


O Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life,  95 

eating  my  breakfast  or  dinner  some  hours  previously.  "When  I  had 
salt  in  my  cell  I  ate  it  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  me  to  drink 
water  to  fill  my  stomach.  It  was  often  a  question  of  deep  consid- 
eration for  me  whether  water  contained  any  nutrition,  and  the  fact 
that  the  people  who  tried  to  break  my  spirit  by  starving  me  left  an 
unlocked  water-tap  in  my  cell  made  me  decide  in  the  negative. 

I  do  not  think  I  had  one  hour  of  calm,  easy  sleep  during  these 
years — that  is,  if  it  be  true  that  sleep  to  be  calm  and  refreshing 
must  be  unaccompanied  by  dreams.  My  whole  prison  life  was  a 
life  of  dreams,  and  the  night  portion  of  them  was  not  the  pleasant- 
est.  Well,  some  of  them  were  pleasant  enough,  till  the  awaking 
brought  me  the  bitter  disappointment — a  disappointment  intensi- 
fied by  the  knowledge  that  I  had  no  possible  chance  of  realizing  in 
my  sober  senses  the  imaginary  pleasures  which  the  vision  had  given 
me.  Well  do  I  remember  in  awakening  from  these  dreams  the 
efforts  I  made  to  snooze  myself  back  in  order  that  the  god  of 
sleep  might  vonchsafe  to  me  a  continuance  of  the  dreamy  pleasure 
that  was  escaping  from  me,  and  often  did  I,  on  fully  awakening, 
smile  at  these  endeavors  to  cheat  the  devil  out  of  his  due,  or,  in 
other  words,  to  cheat  the  British  Government  out  of  the  measure 
of  punishment  they  had  exacted  from  me. 

The  platefuls  of  bread  and  butter  that  I  ate  some  nights  would 
be  alarming  to  any  physician,  were  he  to  see  me  eat  them,  and  as 
for  hams  of  bacon,  there  would  be  no  keeping  account  of  them.  My 
mind  must  have  received  impressions  of  punch  and  mulled  porter 
somewhere,for  I  found  myself  indulging  in  one  or  the  other  occa- 
sionally, till  the  sound  of  a  bell,  or  the  clanking  of  keys  dashed 
the  pewter  or  the  tumbler  out  of  my  hand. 

Hunger  had  one  time  brought  me  to  view  things  in  such  a  philo- 
sophical manner,  that  if  when  eating  my  eight  ounces  of  bread  I 
found  a  beetle  or  a  ciarogue  cracking  between  my  teeth,  instead  of 
spitting  out  in  disgust  what  I  was  chewing,  I  would  chew  away 
with  the  instinctive  knowledge  that  nature  had  provided  for  the 
carrying  away  of  anything  that  was  foul  and  the  retaining  of  what 
was  nutritious  from  what  I  swallowed.  So  much  had  the  feeling 
of  hunger  taken  possession  of  me,  that,  day  by  day,  I  found  myself 
regretting  that  I  did  not  eat  more  of  the  good  things  of  the  world 
when  I  was  in  society,  and  my  teeth  would  water  at  the  recollection 
of  a  leg  of  lamb  or  mutton.  This  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  when  it 
is  understood  that  starvation  was  a  part  of  my  punishment,  and 
that  I  had  experienced  the  sobering  influences  of  bread  and  water 
for  a  period  of  five  hundred  and  sixty  days,  during  the  first  three  or 
four  years  of  my  imprisonment. 

I  did  not  pretend  to  my  persecutors  that  I  felt  the  least  incon- 
venience from  all  they  were  putting  me  through ;  but  I  suppose 
they  knew  very  well  that  I  could  not  but  feel  miserable.  Their 
business  was  to  make  me  so,  and  make  me  beg  for  peace  or  mercy, 
and  my  part  of  the  game  was  not  to  give  them  the  satisfaction  of 


96  O  Donovan  IZossa's  Prison  Life. 

letting  them  see  that  I  cared  about  their  punishment.  I  had  all 
along  a  secret  feeling  of  defiance  that  sustained  me  when  they  were 
illtreating  me.  It  did  not  show  itself  on  the  surface,  for  I  was  habit- 
ually polite,  except  on  two  or  three  occasions,  that  their  outrages 
got  the  better  of  me;  then  the  spirit  broke  out  and  pitched  them 
and  their  rules  and  regulations  to  the  devil.  I  had  a  feeling  that  I 
would  have  to  succumb  to  the  ordeal  in  the  long  run,  and  I  took  a 
resolution  I  would  make  my  death  as  dear  to  them  as  possible ;  that 
they  were  treating  me,  and  should  treat  me,  in  a  manner  that  would 
disgrace  them  if  it  were  known ;  and  then  my  efforts  were  directed 
to  make  it  known,  or  to  leave  such  evidence  on  record  as  would 
have  a  chance  of  coming  to  light  at  a  coroner's  inquest.  As,  in 
making  these  remarks,  I  am  going  before  my  time,  I  think  I  had 
better  pull  myself  up,  and  in  another  chapter  go  regularly  through 
my  course  at  Pentonville. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


Arrival  in  Pentonville  Prison,  London — Stripped — Deprived 
of  Flannels — Fixed  in  my  Quarters — Bed  and  Board,  Etc. 

On  the  Wednesday  after  my  arrival  in  Pentonville  I  was  in  reg- 
ular working  order ;  the  master  tailor  who  examined  my  stitching 
thought  I  did  it  very  well,  and  brought  me  a  waistcoat  to  make. 
The  principal  officer  of  the  ward  brought  me  a  button  and  told  me 
to  sew  it  on  the  breast  of  my  jacket  just  opposite  my  heart,  and 
when  this  was  done  he  handed  me  a  round  little  board  on  which 
was  painted  the  number  26.  A  leather  strap  was  nailed  to  it,  and 
he  told  me  to  attach  it  to  the  button  and  never  to  take  it  off.  This 
26  was  the  number  of  my  cell,  and  it  was  to  be  my  name  in  prison. 
I  was  newly  christened,  and  the  name  of  Rossa  was  to  be  heard  no 
more.  'Twas  26  here  and  26  there  and  26  everywhere.  The  gov- 
ernor of  the  jail  and  the  deputy-governor  visited  26  every  day,  and 
the  number  was  ordered  to  stand  to  attention  and  stood  erect.  The 
jailer  that  accompanied  the  deputy-governor  told  26  several  times 
that  besides  standing  to  attention  he  should  salute  the  superior 
officers  by  raising  his  hand  to  his  uncovered  head :  26  listened 
patiently,  but  he  always  seemed  to  forget  the  instructions  when  the 
superior  officers  came,  for  when  the  orders  were  given  to  stand  to 
attention,  he  stood  with  his  hands  rigidly  fixed  to  his  sides.  For 
this  he  was  often  reprimanded,  but  they  did  not  inflict  any  further 
punishment  for  the  dereliction  of  duty. 

A  bell  rang  at  eight  o'clock  every  morning,  and  I  heard  the 
whole  prison  moving,  but  did  not  know  for  a  time  what  was  up. 
I  made  bold  enough  to  ask  an  officer  what  was  the  matter,  and  I 
was  told  it  was  going  to  prayers.  "  And  cannot  you  take  me  to 
prayers?"  said  I.  " No,"  he  answered  ;  "there  is  no  service  in  the 
prison  for  Catholics ;  Millbank  is  the  place  for  that."  When  the 
Governor  came  round  I  begged  leave  to  ask  him  a  question,  and  he 
gave  me  permission.  "  I  understand,  Governor,"  said  I,  "  that  the 
prison  rules  accord  religious  service  to  all  convicts,  and  how  is  it 
that  I  am  kept  from  chapel  ?"  "  We  have  no  Roman  Catholic  ser- 
vice here,"  he  answered  ;  "  but  I  understand  the  Directors  of  the 
Prison  are  taking  measures  to  have  a  priest  visit  you."  Friday 
came,  and  I  got  my  dinner  of  four  ounces  of  mutton  with  a  pint  of 
the  water  in  which  it  was  boiled.  I  asked  what  was  my  religious 
registration  in  the  prison,  and  I  was  told  it  was  Roman  Catholic. 
Then  I  asked  if  I  could  not  have  a  fish  dinner  or  some  dinner  other 


98  O  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

than  a  meat  one  on  Friday,  and  I  was  told  I  could  not.  "  You'll  be 
very  glad  before  long  to  eat  that  on  a  Friday,"  said  the  officer, 
shutting  the  door  in  my  face,  and  it  was  very  true  for  him.  But  I 
did  not  eat  it  that  day,  and  when  he  came  round  for  my  tins  after 
dinner  I  put  the  meat  and  soup  outside  the  door.  "  Can't  you  keep 
the  meat,"  said  he,  "  and  eat  it  to-morrow  ?"  "  No,"  I  said ;  "  I 
should  eat  it  to-day  if  I  kept  it  in  my  cell ;"  and  smiling  at  me  he 
shut  the  door  more  gently  than  he  did  before. 

Whatever  part  of  the  faith  of  my  fathers  I  had  lost,  I  had  up  to 
this  retained  the  practice  of  abstaining  from  meat  on  Friday.  I 
believe  if  I  had  not  been  put  to  prison  I  would  have  through  life 
adhered  to  this  abstinence — not,  perhaps,  so  much  from  religious 
scruples  on  the  matter  as  from  feelings  of  respect  for  the  memory  of 
the  father  and  mother  that  reared  me  a  Catholic,  or  for  some  hal- 
lowed recollections  of  the  Catholic  associations  of  early  home  and 
its  surroundings.  This  was  one  link  of  the  chain  that  I  was  not 
going  to  give  up,  even  though  Cardinal  Cullen  had  visited  me  with 
the  major  excommunication  of  "bell,  book  and  candle  light,"  but 
though  clinging  to  it,  it  would,  I  suppose — if  his  Eminence  ha<3  just 
grounds  for  excommunicating  me — be  only  clinging  to  a  straw. 

I  was  shaved  three  times  a  week  by  one  of  the  warders.  The 
ordinary  prisoners,  as  I  afterward  learned,  were  allowed  to  shave 
themselves,  but  the  razor  was  never  entrusted  into  my  hands  while 
I  remained  in  this  prison.  It  was  a  most  unwelcome  job  to  the. 
warder,  also ;  one  of  them  would  go  through  it  pretty  smoothly,  but 
two  or  three  others  of  them  would  give  me  an  awful  scraping.  Occa- 
sionally a  convict  takes  it  into  his  head  to  release  himself  from 
prison  by  cutting  his  throat ;  and  so  many  of  them  took  it  into 
their  heads  lately  to  cheat  the  Government  in  this  matter,  that  the 
authorities  had  decided  to  abolish  the  use  of  razors  altogether,  and 
now  the  prisoner's  beard  is  clipped  with  a  scissors  once  a  month. 

I  got  a  bath  once  a  week.  The  water  was  warm,  but  very  dirty. 
The  bathing  pool  was  a  long  trough,  over  whieh  were  erected  sheds 
to  prevent  the  prisoners  communicating,  but  there  was  nothing  to 
prevent  the  water  in  which  the  prisoners  at  each  side  of  me  were 
washing  themselves  from  flowing  in  to  me.  Our  legs  could  touch 
each  other  under  the  sheet  iron  that  kept  us  apart,  and  I  hardly 
ever  took  a  bath  that  I  hadn't  some  unfortunate  fellow  thrusting  his 
leg  into  my  compartment  for  the  purpose  of  picking  up,  or  rather 
of  kicking  up  an  acquaintance. 

I  chanced  one  day  to  get  next  Charles  J.  Kickham  in  one  of 
these  places ;  I  saw  him  as  I  was  passing  the  door  of  his  crib.  I 
entered  mine,  stripped  off  with  all  the  haste  I  could,  jumped  into  the 
trough,  and  stuck  one  of  my  legs  as  far  as  I  could  into  his  compart- 
ment, poking  it  about  until  I  touched  him.  I  spoke  to  him  as  in- 
telligibly as  I  could  with  my  big  toe,  and  he  seemed  to  understand 
me,  for  he  gave  it  a  shake  hands ;  to  do  this  he  must  have  dived 


O ^  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life,  99 

down  a  bit,  so  I  drew  back  my  foot,  and,  taking  another  dive, 
thrust  my  hand  in  and  caught  his ;  but  he  gave  me  such  a  squeeze 
as  would  have  made  me  scream,  if  my  head  were  not  under  water, 
or  if  the  fear  of  calling  the  officer's  attention  were  not  before  my  eyes. 
The  next  day  I  came  to  bathe  I  thought  it  was  Kickham  that  I  saw 
again  in  the  same  place,  and  I  endeavored  to  renew  the  acquaint- 
ance. There  was  somewhat  of  a  repetition  of  the  previous  day's  work. 
I  dressed  in  a  hurry,  and  as  the  officer  had  his  back  turned  I  got  out 
and  cried,  "  Keady ;"  but  before  I  spoke  I  had  snatched  at  the  hand 
of  the  other  man  who  was  dressing.  He  grasped  mine  affectionate- 
ly, but  as  our  eyes  met  I  saw  it  was  not  Kickham  I  had,  but  some 
poor  fellow  that  was  blind  of  an  eye,  and  in  possession  of  a  most  i 
pugnacious-looking  face.  At  this  period  I  was  getting  my  hour's  air- 
ing in  the  ring  with  the  ordinary  prisoners,  and  the  new  acquaint- 
ance never  lost  sight  of  me.  It  amused  me  often  in  passing  him,  to 
notice  how  amiably  he  would  try  to  look  at  me,  and  what  an  expres- 
sion of  friendship  would  beam  in  that  solitary  eye  which  his  head 
contained.  I  reciprocated  the  look  as  well  as  I  could.  I  suppose 
he  was  a  thief,  but  that  is  no  matter — he  was  certainly  a  prisoner 
and  a  human  being,  and  here  we  stood  upon  equal  terms. 

I  took  advantage  of  one  of  the  Governor's  visits  to  my  cell  to 
renew  my  application  to  be  allowed  to  write,  but  he  had  not  the 
authority  to  permit  me.  I  asked  him  "  could  I  write  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  State,"  and  he  said  "  that  was  a  matter  I  could  bring  before 
the  Directors."  I  wished  to  know  how,  and  was  informed  that  they 
met  in  the  prison  once  a  week,  and  any  prisoner  could,  on  applica- 
tion to  the  Governor,  have  his  name  put  down  to  see  them.  "  Then, 
Governor,"  I  said,  "  you'll  please  take  my  name,"  and  the  Governor 
told  me  it  was  out  of  order  to  take  it  on  that  occasion — that  I 
should  tell  my  officer,  and  my  officer  would  take  me  before  him 
next  day,  and  he  would  make  the  order  to  have  me  see  the  Direct- 
ors, if  my  business  was  legitimate.  So  far  so  good.  I  gave  my 
name  to  my  officer,  my  officer  took  me  to  my  Governor,  my  Gov- 
ernor heard  my  application  to  write  to  my  Secretary  of  State,  and 
put  my  name  down  to  see  my  Directors,  and  when  my  Directors 
came  I  was  conducted  into  their  august  presence.  There  were  about 
nine  of  them  in  the  room  ;  they  gazed  at  me  as  I  entered  and  took 
my  position  in  front  of  a  large  table*  in  obedience  to  the  order  of 
"  Stand  to  attention." 

I  swept  my  eyes  around  till  they  rested  on  Captain  Gambier — 
the  old  gentleman  who  sat  at  the  one  end  of  the  table  in  the  posi- 
tion of  Chairman.  The  officer  who  conducted  me  in  cried  out: 
"  Treason-felony  convict,  Number  26,  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa, 
penal  servitude  for  life,"  and  as  he  ended,  the  Chairman  asked  blunt- 
ly :  "  What  do  you  want  ?"  "  To  write  a  letter  to  my  wife." 
"  We  cannot  permit  you.  Do  you  want  anything  else  ?"  "  To 
write  a  letter  to  Mr.  Stansfield,  Member  of  the  English  Parlia* 
ment." 


100  0* Donovan  Bossd's  Prison  Life. 

a  We  cannot  permit  you.     Do  you  want  anything  else  ?" 

"  To  write  a  letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State." 

"  Granted.     Do  you  want  anything  else  ?" 

"  Can  you  give  me  any  information  regarding  the  religious 
service  which  the  rules  say  all  prisoners  must  attend,  for  I  can  see 
nothing  of  the  kind  in  this  establishment  ?" 

We  have  made  arrangements  to  have  a  priest  visit  you,  and  he 
will  give  you  any  information  that  is  necessary  on  the  matter.  Do 
you  want  anything  else  ?" 

"  No,  thank  you." 

"  Number  26,  right-about  face,"  and  right-about  I  faced  and 
marched  toward  my  cell  in  obedience  to  orders. 

A  few  days  after,  the  door  of  my  cell  was  thrown  open  and  in 
came  a  priest.  I  was  very  glad  to  see  him.  "  'Twas  a  cure  for 
sore  eyes"  to  see  any  one  or  anything  that  had  not  the  color  of  the 
prison,  and  as  the  holy  father  closed  the  door  behind  him,  I  felt 
myself  growing  big  with  joy  that  I  had  some  one  I  could  speak 
a  word  to. 

But  I  was  soon  chilled  by  the  cold,  icy  words  of  this  disciplin- 
arian. My  readers  may  expect  that  I  was  not  long  speaking  to  him 
before  I  asked  him  something  about  Ireland,  and  as  soon  as  I  did 
he  promptly  told  me  that  I  was  not  to  ask  him  anything  that  did 
not  appertain  to  his  prison  duties.  The  conversation  turned  back 
on  religion  again,  and  again  I  offended  by  asking  some  irrelevant  or 
irreverent  question.  Father  Zanetti  stamped  on  the  ground  and 
told  me  that  his  honor  was  at  stake,  and  not  to  be  trespassing  upon 
it.  A  third  time  I  offended  by  asking  him  could  he  tell  me  any- 
thing that  he  might  have  seen  in  print  about  my  wife  and  children, 
and  a  third  time  he  told  me  that  I  must  not  ask  him  any  questions 
about  the  world  or  anything  in  it.  He  told  me  he  would  bring 
books  from  his  prison,  and  do  everything  else  for  us  he  could  con- 
sistent with  his  duty.  A  fourth  tLne  I  offended  by  asking  him 
if  he  would  convey  a  remembrance  from  me  to  my  fellow-prisoners, 
and  he  left  me,  carrying  with  him,  no  doubt,  the  opinion  that  I  was 
a  very  refractory  prisoner.  The  next  Thursday  he  visited  me,  and 
while  my  mind  was  yet  wholly  troubled  about  the  world,  he  would 
have  me  turn  all  my  thoughts  to  religion.  I  told  him  candidly  that 
I  could  not  as  yet  get  my  mind  to  travel  in  his  groove,  that  it  was 
too  much  impressed  with  the  troubles  of  this  world  to  turn  suddenly 
toward  the  next,  and  that  I  would  rather  hear  something  which  it 
was  in  his  power  to  tell  me  about  Ireland  than  anything  he  could 
say  to  me  about  hell  or  Heaven.  "Father,"  said  I  to  him,  smriingly, 
"  this  is  my  hell,  and  you  refuse  to  give  me  a  glimpse  of  Heaven." 
He  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  I  turned  the  conversation  to  the 
state  of  my  library,  asking  him  what  he  could  do  lor  me  in  the  way 
of  books.  He  would  see  about  that  and  tell  his  man  in  Millbank  to 
make  out  a  list  of  books  from  the  Catholic  library  in  order  that 
they  may  be  forwarded  to  Pentonville  for  us ;  he  would  try  to  have 


O  Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life.  101 

each  of  us  get  one  of  them  every  fortnight,  in  addition  to  the  one 
we  were  getting,  and  I  became  quite  elated  at  this,  because  the 
little  book  I  had  was  worthless. 

Before  he  left  me  this  time  he  made  another  attempt  to  turn 
my  thoughts  to  religion,  and  I  told  him  I  was  put  outside  of  the 
pale  of  the  Church  by  some  of  the  priests  of  the  Church.  "  How  is 
that  ?"  said  he.  "  Simply  that  I  have  been  refused  the  sacraments, 
that  I  have  been  turned  away  from  the  confessional,  for  the  reason 
that  I  have  pledged  myself  to  assist  in  freeing  Ireland  from  English 
rule." 

"  Oh,  you  are  mistaken,  that  is  not  the  reason.  The  reason  is 
that  you  belong  to  a  secret  society,  whose  leaders  are  in  league 
with  Mazzini  and  the  heads  of  the  wicked  societies  of  the  Conti- 
nent." 

"  I  think  you  are  mistaken,  Father  Zanetti ;  as  far  as  I  know, 
and  I  think  I  ought  to  know  something  on  the  matter,  the  society 
in  Ireland  was  not  in  communication  with  any  of  those  people  or 
any  of  those  societies  you  speak  of,  and  if  your  information  as  to 
the  wickedness  of  the  Continental  societies  are  only  as  reliable  as 
what  you  say  of  our  society  in  Ireland,  I  do  not  think  much  of  it." 

"  Are  you  a  secret  society  condemned  by  the  Church  ?" 

"  It  is  said  we  are,  but  I  strongly  doubt  the  justice  of  the  con- 
demnation. The  Church  knows  our  object,  and  we  have  no  bond 
of  secrecy  in  the  oath.  It  is  purely  a  military  organization,  and 
the  Church  ought  not  to  condemn  an  Irishman  for  taking  an  oath 
to  fight  for  the  freedom  of  his  native  land  ;  it  does  not  condemn  an 
Irishman  who  swears  to  fight  for  England,  and  necessarily  for  the 
enslavement  of  his  country." 

"But  England  is  an  established  government,  and  you  would 
not  be  justified  in  opposing  it  unless  there  were  extreme  oppres- 
sion, and  that  you  had  the  necessary  means  of  success." 

"  There  is  no  question  of  the  oppression,  and  as  to  the  means  of 
success,  we  were  only  organizing  them  with  the  intention  of  not 
fighting  till  we  had  them,  when  some  of  the  clergy  set  their  faces 
against  us." 

"  Well,  we'll  have  a  talk  on  that  some  other  time,  and  now  let 
me  ask  you  to  be  prepared  to  go  to  your  duty  the  next  day  I  come 
round." 

He  was  in  good  humor  now,  and  I  said  to  him — 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Father ;  if  I  were  to  think,  as  some 
of  my  friends  and  relations  think,  I'd  hardly  believe  you  to  be  a 
priest  at  all." 

"How  is  that?" 

"  Simply  because  they  consider  a  priest  is  one  to  administer 
comfort  and  consolation  in  every  situation  of  life,  and  if  I  could 
tell  them  I  asked  you  a  question  about  my  family,  and  that  you 
refused  to   answer  me  while  able  to  do  so,  they  wouldn't  believe 


102  O  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

it  of  a  Catholic  priest,  and  would  be  inclined  to  tell  me  that  you 
were  not  one." 

He  shook  his  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You're  cute,  but  you 
won't  get  a  thing  out  of  me,"  shook  hands  with  me.  and  saying  he 
would  bring  me  a  book  next  week,  departed.  The  next  week  came, 
and  with  it  came  his  reverence,  bringing  the  book.  It  was  a  double- 
columned  volume  ol  Lingard's  History  of  England,  and  I  hugged 
it  to  my  bosom  on  seeing  the  large  amount  of  reading  that  was  in 
it.  I  parodied  for  it  the  old  Irish  song  in  praise  of  whiskey,  where 
the  lover  of  it,  embracing  the  bottle,  exclaims : 

Mo  bhean  agus  mo  leanbh  thu, 
Mo  mhathair  agus  m'athair  thu, 
Mo  chota  more  iss  mo  rappar  thu, 
Iss  ni  scarra  may  go  bragh  leath. 

My  darling  wife  and  child  are  you, 
My  mother  and  my  father,  too, 
My  big  great  coat  and  wrapper  new, 
And  I  will  never  part  you. 

Father  Zanetti  told  me  that  he  had  made  arrangements  with 
Canon  Oakley  to  say  Mass  for  us  every  Wednesday  and  Sunday, 
and,  as  he  himself  would  come  every  Thursday  to  visit  us,  the  week 
would  be  pretty  well  broken.  Should  any  one  notice  that  I  speak 
too  often  of  the  priests  or  of  the  ministers,  let  them  understand  that 
they  were  the  only  Christians  I  met  in  my  prison  life,  and  the  only 
persons  to  break  its  monotony.  I  could  see  no  other  man  who  had 
not  the  prison  livery  on  him,  and,  as  for  seeing  a  woman,  the  Lord 
bless  you  !  I  was  for  about  two  years  at  one  time  without  laying  my 
eyes  upon  the  face  of  an  angel,  and  nearly  three  years  without  hear- 
ing the  voice  of  one. 

The  day  the  priest  brought  me  the  History  of  England,  I  had  a 
long  talk  with  him  again  on  my  religious  duties.  He  urged  me, 
now  that  I  was  imprisoned  for  life,  that  I  could  do  nothing  in  the 
outside  world,  and  that  I  may  as  well  give  up  the  oath  and  become 
a  good  Catholic. 

"  And  Father,"  said  I,  "  can  I  not  be  a  good  Catholic  unless  I 
give  up  the  oath  ?" 

"No." 

"  Then  I  fear  I'll  never  become  a  good  Catholic." 

"  If  you  were  on  your  dying  bed,  wouldn't  you  give  it  up  ?" 

"I  would  not." 

"  And  you'd  damn  your  soul  for  eternity  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  that  God  would  damn  my  soul  for  that ;  if  all 
my  other  sins  were  forgiven  but  that  of  swearing  to  fight  for  the 
liberty  of  my  country,  I  would  face  my  Creator  with  a  light  heart." 

"  But  how  can  your  other  sins  be  forgiven  when  you  will  not 
avail  of  the  graces  God  offers  you  through  His  Church  and  His 
ministers  ?" 


CDonovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  103 

"  I  have  only  to  trust  to  God  entirely,  when  I  find  that  the  sacra- 
ments of  the  Church  have  been  denied  to  me  for  doing  that  which 
I  believe  to  be  the  noblest  and  the  most  sacred  thing  a  man  can  do." 

"  Well,  I  am  sorry  for  you ;  your  heart  is  better  than  your  head ; 
I  will  pray  for  you,  and  I  ask  you,  as  a  special  request,  to  pray  for 
me." 

I  saw  immediately  that  this  was  for  the  purpose  of  getting  me 
into  a  praying  mood,  and  as  he  pressed  me  to  promise  him,  I  did  so. 
He  then  told  me  that  in  these  prisons  they  did  not  alter  the  prison 
fare  on  Friday's  for  Catholics,  but  that  the  church  had  given  them 
permission  to  eat  meat  on  those  days,  and  that  no  fasts  need  be  ob- 
served. I  did  not  tell  him,  nor  did  I  tell  you  yet,  I  believe,  that  I 
had  been  a  "  Friday  dog  "  for  the  past  two  weeks.  Hunger  and  re- 
flection in  solitary  confinement  had  got  the  better  of  my  scruples, 
or  rather  of  my  pride,  in  sticking  to  this  practice  of  the  old  faith  of 
my  fathers.  The  first  Friday  I  put  out  my  meat,  the  second  Fri- 
day I  kept  it  in  my  cell  and  ate  it  on  Saturday.  I  did  not  think 
there  was  much  merit  in  doing  this,  and  the  third  Friday  I  "  broke 
the  pledge  "  quite  deliberately  by  eating  the  four  ounces  of  mutton 
and  drinking  the  pint  of  mutton  water  with  which  it  was  sur- 
rounded. 

It  may  be  proper  that  I  should  call  this  broth  or  soup,  in  ac- 
cordance with  discipline,  but  inasmuch  as  I  am  now  outside  of  its 
controlling  influence,  I  use  the  expression  mutton  water.  It  had 
barely  the  taste  of  the  meat,  unless,  indeed,  you  were  fortunate 
enough  to  come  in  for  a  chance  of  getting  a  pint  from  "  the  top  of 
the  pot,"  and  I  smile  now  at  thinking  of  the  haste  with  which  I 
would  run  to  my  canteen  when  the  door  was  shut  to  see  what  luck  I 
had.  The  bill  of  fare  says  that  your  dinner  for  Friday  is  to  be  one 
pint  of  soup  made  from  four  ounces  of  mutton  "boiled  in  its  own 
liquor,"  together  with  this  four  ounces  or  what  remains  of  it ;  every 
hundred  pints  of  water  and  every  hundred  quarters  of  a  pound  of 
meat  to  be  flavored  and  seasoned  with  a  few  ounces  of  onions  and 
pepper  and  salt,  and  this  was  more  savory  to  me  at  that  time  than 
the  most  spicy  dish  that  could  be  set  before  me  now  at  Jude's  or 
Delmonico's. 

The  meals  were  given  to  the  ordinary  prisoners  through  a  trap- 
door. This  was  about  eight  inches  square.  It  was  locked  outside, 
and  when  the  turnkey  opened  it  he  thrust  it  in  and  laid  the  vessel 
thereon. 

If  the  prisoner  was  not  ready  to  take  it  off"  the  moment  it  was 
laid  on,  and  shut  the  trap  at  the  same  time,  he  subjected  himself  to 
a  report,  and  a  report  is  always  the  foreruuner  of  punishment.  In 
giving  the  meals  to  me  and  my  fellow-prisoners  our  doors  were  al- 
ways opened,  and  two  officers  were  present.  This  was  lest  any  one 
officer,  approaching  us  by  himself,  would  give  us  information,  or  lay 
himself  open  to  be  corrupted.  They  nailed  up  our  traps  one  day, 
and  every  stroke  of  the  hammer  on  my  door  struck  me  as  being  a 


104  G Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

fastener  on  me.  Those  great  English  people  would  not  even  trust 
their  English  jailors  with  us  without  making  them  act  as  spies  upon 
each  other.  That  is  the  very  thing  that  would  corrupt  an  Irish- 
man ;  his  blood  would  rise  mountain  high  if  it  was  plainly  set  be- 
fore him  every  day  that  he  would  not  be  trusted  in  the  discharge  of 
his  duty ;  but  the  Englishman  bore  it  throughout  with  the  most 
Christian  resignation,  and  took  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course.  And 
even  among  the  best  Irishmen  this  sensitiveness  of  theirs  works  mis- 
chief often.  In  political  organizations  say,  something  is  necessary 
to  be  done  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  tell  to  more  than  one  or  two, 
but,  by-and-by,  the  thing  spreads,  it  comes  to  the  ears  of  Mike 
Fitzgarald,  and  Mike  Fitzgerald  immediately  demands  of  some 
authority  why  he  wasn't  told  of  it  as  well  as  Jim  O'Brien — was 
not  he  as  well  to  be  trusted  ? — didn't  he  work  as  long,  and  didn't 
he  do  as  much  work  as  any  one  else  ? — to  say  that  anything 
should  be  done  now  without  telling  him  of  it,  when  others  were  told. 
And  so  the  grumbling  goes  on,  to  the  infinite  injury  of  all  harmory 
and  good  order. 

One  Sunday  morning  my  door  was  opened,  and  my  officer  told 
me  to  prepare  for  chapel.  I  told  him  I  was  prepared  for  anything, 
and  he  ordered  me  to  bring  my  prayer-book  and  my  stool.  "  Now, 
forward ;  march."  And  on  I  marched  through  halls,  around  cor- 
ners, down  stairs,  and  along  dark  passages,  till  I  found  myself 
halted  opposite  a  little  altar.  It  was  in  the  basement  of  the  build- 
ing, where  the  dark  cells  are  located. 

Two  large  dykes  were  dug  along  the  sides  of  the  dark  hall  for 
the  purpose  of  laying  pipes  in  them,  and  the  prisoners  were  sitting, 
each  on  his  own  stool,  about  one  yard  apart  between  the  two 
mounds  of  earth  that  were  thrown  up.  A  warder  with  his  club  in 
hand  stood  in  the  door  of  each  of  the  dark  cells,  and  if  a  side  squint 
was  noticed  from  one  of  us,  the  gentleman  who  noticed  it  shook  his 
stick  at  the  oflender. 

The  priest  came  out  of  one  of  the  dark  cells  that  was  near  the 
altar  ;  his  eyesight  was  bad,  and  he  had  to  be  led  by  the  hand  by 
his  clerk  along  the  boards  that  crossed  the  dyke.  It  was  a  meet 
chapel — or  would  be — for  Irish  rebels  of  the  olden  time ;  those  who 
were  hunted  for  adhering  to  their  religion  or  to  their  country  when 
the  cause  of  religion  and  the  cause  of  country  were  one ;  the  cave  in 
the  rock ;  and  the  light  glittering  on  the  priest's  garments  and 
brightening  the  darkness,  were  here  to  awaken  the  traditions  that 
our  youthful  memories  had  stored.  My  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
prayer-book,  according  to  discipline,  but  my  mind  was  fixed  else- 
where, and  I  was  rambling  through  the  graveyards  that  grow 
around  the  old  abbeys  of  the  old  land,  when  the  warder  punched 
me  in  the  side  with  his  club  to  make  me  aware  that  I  should  not 
be  kneeling  when  all  the  others  were  standing,  and  the  priest  read- 
ing the  Gospel.  I  was  the  last  man  that  was  taken  into  the  cave, 
and  when  Mass  was  over  I  was  the  first  man  taken  out.    The  officer 


C Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  105 

made  a  motion  with  his  club  toward  the  rear.  I  took  up  my  stool 
and  marched  away,  without  having  seen  the  face  of  one  of  my 
companions. 

Sunday  was  to  me  the  gloomiest  day  of  any  of  the  week.  On 
other  days  I  kept  myself  occupied,  or  tried  to  do  so,  by  counting 
every  stitch  I  put  along  the  back  of  a  waistcoat,  every  stitch  I  put 
along  the  front,  inside  and  outside ;  every  stitch  I  put  around  the 
collar,  and  around  the  waist ;  the  button  and  button-hole  stitches 
were  counted  too,  and  I  figured  a  sum  total  of  the  number  of 
stitches  I  put  in  every  waistcoat  made  by  me.  This  was  the  way  I 
provided  myself  with  mental  exercise,  a  sort  of  exercise  that  was 
very  much  needed — more  needed,  perhaps,  in  solitary  confinement 
than  physical  exercise. 

While  I  was  taking  my  hour's  airing  one  day,  some  one  came 
into  my  cell  and  took  away  one  of  my  library  books.  I  made  a 
noise  about  it,  as  if  it  was  stolen,  and  that  I  wished  to  get  out  of 
trouble  by  reporting  it,  and  was  told  that  it  was  taken  away  by 
orders,  because  the  Ihw  did  not  allow  a  prisoner  to  have  more  than 
one  library  book,  and  as  the  priest  had  given  me  one  a  few  days  ago 
— contrary  to  regulations — the  matter  should  be  corrected  by  taking 
it  away.  Here  was  bad  newTs  again,  but  it  was  a  change  in  affairs, 
and.  I  think,  every  change  in  prison  life,  whether  for  bad  or  good, 
tends  to  promote  health — that  is,  if  the  change  for  the  worse  is  not 
a  very  wicked  one.  I  know  that  for  the  variety  the  change  af- 
forded in  a  monotonous  existence,!  often  sacrificed  what  imprisoned 
people  would  consider  a  happier  state,  but  as  I  am  yet  only  in  the 
first  months  of  a  course  of  five  or  six  years,  I  will  keep  the  particu- 
lars that  suggest  these  thoughts  till  I  ^row  older  in  my  career. 

That  Sunday,  when  I  came  from  chapel  without  being  able  to  see 
the  faces  ot  my  companions,  I  grew  very  gloomy.  The  book  was 
gone,  my  needle  and  thimble  were  gone,  and  I  had  no  stitches  to 
count.  The  day  was  a  dark,  gloomy  one,  and  the  cell,  which  was  a 
darkened  one,  was  darker  than  usual.  On  some  foggy  days  gas  has 
to  be  lit  in  these  cells  to  give  the  prisoners  light  enough  to  work. 
God's  sunlight  is  artificially  kept  out  in  order  to  punish  the  crim- 
inals, and  among  these  England  classed  us,  and  into  the  criminal 
cells  she  stuck  us.  Suicide  and  lunacy  form  a  very  large  item  in 
the  effect  of  England's  treatment  of  her  convicts,  and  I  don't  won- 
der at  it.  I  am  Writing  now  of  a  very  dark  day  in  prison ;  I  found 
myself  out  of  all  resources,  and  I  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  go  on 
verse  making.  "  The  poet  and  madman  nearly  are  allied,"  and  if  you 
wish  you  can  believe  that  I  was  on  the  road  to  distraction  when  I 
made  such  verses  as  the  following.  However,  don't  be  too  hard  on 
me  if  you  see  no  brilliancy  or  bright  idea  in  them — remember  what 
I  am  telling  you  about  the  gloom  that  enveloped  me  even  on  the 
sunniest  day : 


106  O Donovan  Rossas  Prison  Life, 

I  have  no  life  at  present,  my  life  is  in  the  past  ; 

I  have  none  in  the  future,  if  the  present  is  to  last ; 

Tbe  "Dead  Past  "  only,  mirrors  now  the  memories  of  life, 

The  fatherland,  the  hope  of  years,  the  friend,  the  child  and  wife. 

Then  am  I  dead  at  present  ?    Yes,  dead  while  buried  here — 
Dead  to  the  wife,  the  child  and  friend,  to  all  the  world  holds  dear  ; 
Dead  to  myself,  for  life  it-  death  to  one  condemned  to  dwell 
His  life-long  years  in  exile  in  a  convict  prison  cell. 

Though  dead  unto  the  present,  I  live  in  the  "Dead  Past," 

And  thoughts  of  dead  and  living  things  crowd  on  me  thick  and  fast; 

E'en  when  reason  is  reposing  they  revei  in  my  brain, 

And  I  meet  the  wife,  the  child  and  friend,  in  fatherland  again. 

The  goddess  on  her  tbrone  resits — the  cherished  dreams  are  fled— 
Were  they  but  phantoms  of  the  past  to  show  the  past  is  dead? 
Past,  Present,  Future,  what  to  me  ! — how  little  man  can  see — 
Am  I  dead  unto  the  world  ? — or  the  world  dead  to  me  ? 

God  only  knows.     I  only  know  that  which  to  man  He  gives, 
The  love  of  Liberty  and  Truth— the  soul,  the  spirit  lives  ; 
And  though  its  house  of  clay  be  bound  by  England's  iron  hand, 
It  freely  flies  to  wife  and  child,  and  friend  and  fatherland. 

I  wrote  this  pacing  my  cell  in  a  diagonal  line  from  one  corner 
to  the  other.  By  taking  that  course  I  made  my  line  of  march 
about  one  pace  longer.  I  did  not  give  a  right- about  nor  a  left- 
about  face  when  I  wanted  to  turn  round,  for  I  found  that 
would  put  a  megrim  in  my  head,  but  I  went  straight  for  one  of  my 
diagonal  corners,  and  when  I  had  reached  it  I  paced  right  straight 
back  again,  heels  foremost,  and  when  I  had  a  couplet  of  my  beauti- 
ful poem  composed  I  halted  to  pencil  it  down  on  my  slate. 

Twice  a  week  the  searching  officers  came  into  my  cell  and  turned 
everything  upside  down  and  inside  out,  looking  for  something  and 
finding  nothing.  I  had  to  strip  to  the  buff  in  their  presence,  and 
when  they  examined  me  quite  naked  they  left  me  to  dress  up  again 
and  to  arrange  my  things  in  the  nicest  order. 

I  managed  to  keep  in  my  cell  two  little  bits  of  slate,  each  about 
an  inch  square,  but  it  would  not  be  nice  to  tell  where  I  hid  them. 
I  kept  them  for  the  purpose  of  communicating  with  my  friends,  an  d 
we  held  communication  in  this  manner.  We  were  all  exercised-  in 
that  yard  which  I  called  the  coach- wheel,  where  I  could  learn,  by 
throwing  pebbles  over  the  wall  into  the  compartment  that  was  next 
to  me,  and  getting  a  pebble  thrown  back  in  return,  that  there  was 
some  one  there.  I  threw  a  bit  of  slate  with  a  few  words  scratched 
on  it.  At  the  first  throw  it  would  contain  my  name,  with  the  words, 
"  Who  are  you  ?"  and,  if  he  was  any  one  I  knew,  we  kept  throwing 
backward  and  forward  while  the  hour  lasted.  I  watched  to  see  when 
the  officer's  eyes  were  off  me  to  write  a  few  words,  and  I  suppose 
the  same  instinct  that  guided  me  guided  my  correspondent.  The 
Pagan  was  the  person  I  fell  in  with  the  oftenest,  and  he  was  at  a 
disadvantage,  inasmuch  as  he  could  not  read  well  without  his  spec- 


G1  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life.  107 

tacles.  Sometimes  he  would  take  my  bit  of  slate  to  his  cell  with 
him,  and  it  might  be  three  or  four  days  or  a  week  before  I  could 
strike  him  again  and  have  a  reply.  In  taking  in  my  tablet  and  bring- 
ing it  out  I  hid  it  in  my  neck-tie,  just  opposite  the  apple  of  the  throat. 
This  was  the  only  spot  that  used  to  escape  the  fingers  of  the  jailor 
in  searching  me.  If  he  found  my  treasure  it  would  be  high  treason, 
and  I  do  not  know  to  how  many  days'  bread  and  water  it  would 
subject  me. 

All  the  prisoners  got  one  hour  "  at  school "  every  week.  During 
this  hour  the  cell  door  was  left  open,  and  the  schoolmasters  perambu- 
lated the  wards,  calling  in  to  every  cell  to  see  how  the  scholars  were 
progressing,  and  to  loosen  any  knotty  question  that  might  impede 
their  progress.  This  hour's  schooling  was  not  conceded  to  us  until 
we  were  a  month  in  prison.  My  door  was  unlocked  and  thrown 
wide  open,  and  left  open  without  any  one  coming  into  my  cell. 
This  was  an  extraordinary  occurrence  with  me.  What  can  it  mean, 
thouo-ht  I,  and  not  understanding  what  it  did  mean  I  remained  sit- 
ting  on  my  stool  stitching  away  for  the  dear  life.  In  about  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  a  respectable-looking  old  man  came  in  asking, 
"  Why  are  you  not  at  school  ?" 

"  At  school,"  said  I,  starting  up  and  making  for  the  door. 

u  Stop,  stop,"  said  he,  laying  hold  of  me,  "where  are  you 
going  ?" 

"  Going  to  school,"  said  I.     "  Where  is  it  ?" 

"This  is  your  school,"  said  he,  "you  are  not  to  leave  your  cell. 
Where  is  your  slate  ?     Are  you  able  to  do  any  figures  ?" 

I  told  him  I  could  do  a  little,  and,  laying  hold  of  the  slate  which 
lay  on  the  little  table,  he  asked,  "  What  figures  are  these  ?" 

"  They  are  the  number  of  stitches  I  put  in  the  little  waistcoat  I 
made." 

"  Are  you  obliged  to  keep  an  account  of  them  ?" 

"  No,  but  1  keep  the  account  for  mental  exercise." 

Turning  the  other  side  of  the  slate  he  asked,  "What  sort  of  a 
sum  is  this  ?" 

"  That  is  a  sum  in  interest." 

"  Certainly  not,  this  sum  is  not  worked  by  any  rule  in  interest. 
What  £42  7s  is  this  at  the  foot  ?" 

"  That  is  the  amount  of  interest  a  hundred  pounds  will  bring  in 
one  year  by  Loan  Bank  interest  in  Ireland." 

"  You  must  be  wrong,  no  bank  interest  is  so  high  as  that ;  how 
do  you  make  it  out  ?"  And  saying  this  he  sat  down  on  my  stool, 
and  I  bent  down  alongside  to  show  him. 

"  That  first  item  of  one  hundred  pounds  is  the  banker's,  and  he 
lends  it  to  a  hundred  poor  struggling  people — a  pound  each.  For 
lending  the  pound,  each  gives  him  one  shilling,  which  gives  him  a 
return  of  five  pounds  the  first  day  ;  he  lends  this  five  pounds  again 
and  gets  five  shillings  more,  which  he  keeps  in  his  bank  till  that 
day  week.     He  has  now,  as  you  see,  one  hundred  and  five  pounds 


108  O Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

at  interest,  which  is  to  be  paid  back  to  him  at  a  shilling  a  week 
from  each  of  his  debtors.  The  next  pay  day  he  gets  one  hundred 
and  five  shillings,  which,  with  the  five  shillings  he  has  in  stock, 
makes  £5  10s. ;  he  lends  five  pounds  of  this  and  gets  five  shillings' 
interest,  which  he  adds  to  the  ten  shillings  and  keeps  in  his  bank,  as 
he  has  not  a  full  pound  to  lend.  He  gets  in  a  hundred  and  ten 
shillings  next  week,  and  he  lends  six  pounds,  keeping  eleven  shil- 
lings in  his  bank,  and  so  on  till  at  the  end  of  the  year  he  has,  as  far 
as  I  can  make  out,  £42  Vs.  interest  on  his  £100." 

"  But  do  you  tell  me  that  kind  of  work  is  in  operation  in  Ire- 
land ?" 

"  Yes,  and  in  very  many  places,  and  the  poor  are  glad  to  have 
the  benefit  of  it." 

"Well,  God  help  the  poor  people;"  and  suddenly  turning  the 
conversation  as  if  he  did  not  want  to  dwell  on  it,  he  asked,  "  How 
are  you  off  for  books  ?" 

"  Very  badly.  "  I  get  but  very  poor  books  from  the  libra- 
rian ;  little  things  that  are  not  worth  reading,  and  which  I  can 
read  in  one  day.  I  am  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  such  exercises 
as  you  see  on  that  slate  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  my  mind 
engaged." 

"  What  class  are  you  in  ?     Is  this  your  card  ?     Third  class?" 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  I'll  put  you  in  a  better  class,  and  the  officer  will  have  to 
give  you  better  books." 

I  thanked  him;  we  had  a  few  words  more,  the  bell  rang,  the 
hour  for  school  was  up,  he  bid  me  good  evening,  and  when  the 
librarian  came  round  the  next  day  he  looked  at  my  card  and  gave 
me  a  better  book  than  he  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  me. 

Shortly  after  this  improvement  in  my  condition,  the  door  was 
thrown  open  another  day,  and  another  strange  gentleman  entered, 
announcing  himself  as  the  chaplain  of  the  prison,  and  after  asking 
me  if  I  had  a  wife  and  children,  where  they  were,  how  they  were 
situated,  and  how  I  felt  about  them,  he  opened  a  book  and  showed 
me  a  letter  lying  open  in  it. 

"  Ob,  that's  my  wife's  writing,  sir." 

"  Yes,  it  is.  I  have  got  this  letter  to  give  you,  and  you're  to  get 
a  leaf  of  paper  to  write  a  letter  in  reply." 

I  thanked  him  as  kindly  as  a  happy  convict  could,  and  he  bade 
me  adieu,  hoping  I'd  get  along  well. 

I  have  the  letter  before  me  now,  and,  to  put  a  little  variety  into 
this  dull  writing  of  mine,  I  think  I  may  as  well  let  you  read  it. 
There  is  never  much  novelty  in  reading  private  letters  that  are  in- 
tended for  the  public ;  but  this  that  I  am  going  to  give  was  never 
intended  for  the  press,  and  will  be  a  kind  of  break  in  what  I  am  go- 
ing through.  Besides,  I  don't  care  to  make  this  prison  life  one 
dark  gloomy  chapter  of  all  its  ills  and  annoyances.  I  mean  to  <*\$ 
through  it  on   paper  with  ihe_s_ame  light  heart  that  I  tried  to  go 


C  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  109 

through  it  with  on  the  ground.  If  I  painted  the  devil  here  as  black 
as  he  is,  which  I  cannot  do,  because  I  lack  the  ability,  and  if  I  kept 
my  readers  all  the  time  on  bread  and  water,  on  chains,  dark  cells 
and  solitary  confinement,  I  may  in  America  be  making  converts  to 
that  apathy  which  exists  among  "  repectable,"  well-to-do  Irishmen, 
who  don't  want  to  sacrifice  anything  or  run  any  risk  for  the  cause 
of  oppressed  Ireland. 

But  I  won't  do  that ;  I'll  make  prison  life  as  entertaining  and  as 
interesting  as  possible  for  them,  and  I'll  break  the  monotony  of  it 
now  by  giving  my  wife's  letter. 

The  Government  brands  come  first,  and  they  run:  "No.  3411  ; 
Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa ;  A.  2.  27;  H.  F.,  Deputy-Governor, 
F.  F.  P." 

"  17  Middle  Mountjoy  street,  Wednesday  Night. 

"  My  Love,  my  Darling  Husband  :  I  could  not  write  to  you 
before,  my  mind  was  so  unsettled  by  a  few  disappointments,  and  it 
would  have  been  too  bad  to  vex  you  with  a  desponding  letter. 
Indeed,  Cariss,  my  conscience  accused  me  of  having  indulged  pri- 
vately in  very  unhappy  feelings.  I  wish  you  could  have  power  to 
look  into  my  heart  and  give  me  absolution.  Some  day  you  may 
listen  to  my  confession,  and  pity  all  the  weaknesses  I  wouldn't  own 
to  any  one  else  in  the  .world  but  you.  You  know  I  would  not  give 
my  "  confidence  "  to  any  friend,  and  my  thoughts  are  sometimes 
more  than  I  can  calmly  bear  alone.  I  get  credit  for  bearing  up 
well,  but  I  feel  myself  a  hypocrite  after.  These  few  days  a  better 
spirit  than  usual  is  uppermost  with  me ;  I  am  hopeful  again,  or  I 
should  not  have  taken  a  pen  to  write  to  you.  I  could  not  write  to 
you  any  way  but  truly  as  I  feel.  I  could  not  tell  you  I  was  happy, 
or  even  resigned,  if  I  did  not  believe  in  being  so,  and  I  was  not  so 
a  week  ago,  though  to  day  I  am. 

"  Now,  Cariss,  about  the  children.  The  last,  I  suppose,  I  may 
put  first,  the  wee  one,  tha"-,  makes  me  sigh  for  you  at  every  time  1 
feel  its  presence.  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  most  happy  or  most 
miserable  about  it.  'Tis  all  I  have  of  you,  and  if  things  turn  out 
badly  it  will  be  the  only  thing  I'll  care  to  hold  my  life  for.  The 
rest  are  well.  I  sent  money  to  Mrs.  Healy,  as  she  sent  me  a  mes- 
sage that  she  had  seen  or  heard  nothing  of  the  money  Denis  O'Don- 
ovan says  he  sent  to  a  friend  for  the  children's  use.  Father  Lucy 
or  Mulcahy,  I  don't  know  which,  was  saying  something  about 
adopting  one  of  them.  Murty  Downing  offered  to  take  two.  I  do 
not  think  well  of  either  offer.  I  was  to  see  Father  Cody  to-day, 
and  he  advised  me  to  leave  them  as  they  were  for  awhile.  I'll  have 
to  do  so  I'm  afraid.  It  seems  the  office  was  not  in  debt  to  you 
more  than  £75.  I  got  £20  of  that  three  weeks  ago ;  could  get  no 
more  since,  but  'tis  no  matter,  as  I  did  not  decide  on  any  school  for 
the  boys  yet.  I  have  not  got  your  clothes  from  Kilmainham;  the 
Governor  has  no  amiable  feelings  for  you,  and  puts  me  to  the 
trouble  of  applying  for  an  order  at  the  opening  of  the  Commission 


110  (y Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

here.  Shall  I  write  to  Denis  O'D.  and  ask  to  whom  he  sent  that 
missing  money.  1  think  I  will.  I  spent  an  unhappy  Christmas  at 
Mr.  Hopper's,  in  Kingstown,  and  dined  here  at  my  lodgings  in  17 
Middle  Mountjoy  street  on  Christmas  Day.  I  thought  of  you  all 
night,  and  cried  myself  to  sleep  and  dreamland  near  morning.  Two 
years  ago  I  sat  in  a  circle  of  father,  mother,  brothers,  sisters  and 
friends,  and  I  did  not  dream  of  you.  One  year  ago  I  sat  with  you* 
and  forgot  home  and  family  in  your  smiles,  and  this  year  I  sat 
alone  and  heartweary,  with  strange  faces  in  the  place  of  those  I  had 
loved,  and  wondered  what  would  the  next  year  bring — more  joy 
or  more  sorrow  ?  Papa  sent  me  a  present  of  fowl  for  New  Year's 
Day,  so  I  gathered  my  friends  to  eat  them.  Mrs.  Luby  and  the 
O'Learys,  Maria  Shaw  and  Mrs.  Burke,  my  brother  and  other  gen- 
tlemen came.  The  evening  passed  very  agreeable  to  all.  Poor  Mrs. 
Luby  looked  absent  and  sad  at  times,  and  I  looked  round  the  room 
and  found  no  place  for  eye  or  heart  to  rest  on ;  but  all  the  rest  were 
in  great  spirits.  The  entertainment  cost  me  a  little,  but  it  served  a 
good  purpose.  They  will  not  forget  this  New  Year's  Day  if  we 
meet  to  celebrate  the  next,  and  God  grant  we  will,  my  love. 

I  was  dreaming  a  few  nights  ago  you  had  come  out  of  prison, 
and  imagination  even  painted  you  without  that  beard  I  was  so  fond 
of.  I  dropped  a  few  tears  specially  for  that  the  night  you  were  con- 
victed. Eily  is  after  coming  in,  and  she  tells  me  Mr.  Lawless  set 
them  right  about  that  money  due  to  you.  I  have  heard  other  news 
also  that  pleases  me.  Good  by,  my  own.  I  don't  know  whether 
this  letter  will  reach  you  ok  I'd  write  more.  All  our  friends  send 
love  to  you^    Fondly  as  ever,  your  wife, 

Mollie  J." 

You  have  read  the  letter  once,  hut  I  read  it  twice,  and  three 
times,  and  four  times,  and  had  not  done  reading  it  when  the  cell- 
door  opened  and  two  officers  entered.  One  of  them  held  in  his 
hand  a  leaf  of  paper  and  the  other  carried  a  pen  and  ink.  "  Here," 
said  the  gentleman  who  had  the  paper,  "  is  material  for  you  to 
write  a  letter  in  reply  to  one  you  have  received,  but  I  am  instructed 
to  tell  you  that  if  you  write  anything  about  the  way  you  are  situ- 
ated, about  the  work  you  are  at,  or  about  the  prison  officers,  your 
letter  will  be  suppressed."  "Then  what  am  I  to  write  about?" 
said  I.  "  There  is  the  paper  for  you,"  said  he,  laying  the  leaf  upon 
the  table,  "  and  there  is  the  pen  and  ink  for  you,"  taking  them  from 
the  other  officer  and  putting  them  alongside  of  the  leaf,  "  you  must 
know  the  rules  and  regulations,  and  if  you  do  not  write  according 
to  the  instructions  you  have  received,  you  have  only  to  take  the 
consequences."  "  Gu  voarih  Dhia  urruing"  answered  I,  "  what  do 
you  say  ?"  "  What's  that  he  says,"  cried  one  and  the  other,  as  if 
I  had  said  something  awful.  "  Oh,"  said  I,  "  I'm  only  paying  God 
help  us,  as  there  seems  to  be  nobody  else  to  help  us  around  here." 
"You'd  better  mind  the  rules  and  regulations,"  chimed  in  both,  walk- 
ing away  and  shutting  the  door  after  them. 


O  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  2dp  HI 

./' 

I  wrote  my  letter  and  sent  it  to  the  Governor  £as  ^^JMikmnp, 
In  four  days  after,  he  sent  for  me  and  told  me  there  VJQiX)  u\70  pao~ 
sages  in  it  that  should  be  expunged,  or  the  letter  suppressed  One 
of  them  was  that  in  which  T  asked  my  wife  to  try  and  get  me  per- 
mission to  write  to  an  English  Member  of  Parliament  about  the 
manner  in  which  I  was  tried,  and  the  other  was  that  in  which  I  told 
her  to  write  me  a  reply  as  soon  as  she  could.  I  told  the  Governor 
that  he  might  erase  both  passages,  and  he  said  that  would  make 
the  matter  all  right. 

We  had  some  conversation  on  the  irrelevancy  of  asking  a  reply 
to  the  letter.  I  argued  that  the  rules  gave  me  the  right  of  receiv- 
ing an  answer  to  every  letter  I  wrote ;  but  he  told  me  that  I  should 
take  the  letter  I  was  after  receiving  as  the  answer  to  the  letter  I 
was  now  writing.  In  this  manner  I  was  cheated  out  of  hearing 
more  fully  from  my  family,  and  many  of  my  fellow-prisoners  were 
treated  simriarly,  as  I  learned  from  them  when  we  met  in  Portland, 
the  next  prison  we  were  sent  to. 

I  noticed  on  Sunday,  at  mass,  that  we  had  a  larger  congregation 
than  usual.  I  was  located  in  my  usual  position,  butl  found  a  man 
at  each  side  of  me,  and  others  behind  me.  I  gave  a  squint,  and  1 
recognized  the  man  at  my  right  to  be  James  O'Connor.  I  knew 
that  the  new  recruits  were  from  Ireland,  and  I  was  itching  to  know 
who  they  were.  When  the  priest  prayed  loud,  I  pretended  to  be 
accompanying  him,  but,  instead  of  uttering  prayers  to  God,  I  mut- 
tered to  James — "  Where  is  Stephens  ?  Are  they  going  to  have  a 
fight?  How  many  of  ye  came ?  Who  are  those  behind  me?" — 
and  James  kept  answering  my  prayers,  till  the  officer  by  his  side, 
noticing  something,  laid  hold  of  him  by  the  shoulder  and  conducted 
him  back  to  the  end  of  the  congregation. 

I  learned  from  O'Connor  that  Stephens  remained  in  Dublin  for 
months  after  he  was  taken  out  of  Richmond  Bridewell ;  that  a  fight 
was  expected ;  that  fourteen  or  fifteen  of  them  had  come  to  Penton- 
ville  ;  that  the  men  behind  me  were  Kickham,  Brophy,  Mulcahy, 
Kenealy,  Roantree,  Carey,  Brian  Dillon,  John  Lynch,  Charley 
O'Connell,  John  Duggan,  Jerry  Donovan,  of  Blarney,  "  The  Galtee 
Boy,"  and  "  some  others,"  as  he  styled  others  whom  he  knew  I  did 
not  know  personally.  He  made  his  syllables  as  short  as  possible, 
and  he  gave  me  no  surnames  where  he  was  aware  I  would  recognize 
the  names  without  them. 

Returning  to  my  cell,  a  prisoner  impeded  my  passage  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  which  I  was  to  ascend.  His  jacket,  his  waistcoat,  his 
braces  were  loosened  and  his  arms  extended,  as  the  officer  was 
searching  him  preliminary  t  d  his  entering  the  cell,  for  we  used  to 
be  put  through  this  search  going  to  chapel  and  coming  from  chapel 
— in  fact  every  time  that  we  were  leaving  our  cell  or  entering  it. 
Looking  at  the  prisoner  I  recognized  him  as  Kickham,  and  had  I 
acted  on  impulse  I  would  have  rushed  at  him  and  embraced  him  be- 
fore the  officers  could  have  arrested  me.     I  did  not  do  so,  and  when 


112  (T  Donovan  HosscCs  Prison  Life, 

I  entered  my  cell  I  got  sick;  1  had  checked  the  natural  course  of  my 
feelings,  they  became  stagnant  somewhere,  and  I  felt  most  uncom- 
fortable until  I  found  relief  by  bursting  into  tears.  They  flowed, 
and  I  let  them  flow  for  some  ten  minutes,  but  they  did  not  come 
until  some  verses  of  Kickham's  came  into  my  head  as  I  was  walking 
madly  about  my  cell,  and  thinking  of  the  unnatural  combinations 
that  sent  such  men  as  he  into  penal  servitude.  He,  an  Irish  Catho- 
lic ;  yes,  as  true  a  one  as  any  priest  or  bishop  that  ever  denounced 
the  cause  for  which  he  suffered ;  ay,  as  full  of  faith,  as  pious  and  as 
moral  too.  1  should  like  to  have  Kickham's  mind,  I  should  tike  to 
have  Kickham's  faith,  for  I'd  like  to  have  the  mind  and  the  faith  of 
such  a  good  and  gifted  man,  but  I  fear  I  can  never  have  either.  His 
verses  of  the  Soggarth  Aroon  came  into  my  mind  on  this  occasion  I 
am  speaking  of ;  I  repeated  them  in  whispers  as  I  paced  my  cell ; 
they  revived  memories  of  olden  times ;  memories  rather  of  youth- 
ful days.  I  felt  the  hard,  unnatural  state  of  things  that  placed 
some  of  the  Irish  priests  in  antagonism  to  those  who  were  ready  to 
risk  all  for  the  purpose  of  freeing  Ireland.  I  felt  that  we  were 
wronged,  bitterly  wronged,  and,  as  I  was  reflecting  upon  that  curse 
which  came  to  divide  priests  and  people  in  this  cause,  rage  or  some 
other  passion  began  to  burn  me.  The  tears  started  into  my  eyes, 
and  I  let  them  flow  freely  for  the  first  time  since  I  entered  prison. 
This  was  a  relief  to  me,  and  I  make  no  apologies  for  putting  in  my 
book  those  verses  that  strike  so  deep  into  my  soul  whenever  I  read 
or  repeat  them : 

SOGGARTH    AROON. 

Cold  is  the  cheerless  hearth, 

Soggarth,  aroon, 
Sickness,  and  woe,  and  death, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
Sit  by  it  night  and  day, 
Turning  our  hearts  to  clay, 
Till  life  is  scarce  left  to  pray, 

Soggarth  aroon. 

Yet  still  in  our  cold  heart's  core, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
One  spot  for  evermore, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
Warm  we've  kept  for  you — 
Warm,  and  leal,  and  true — 
For  you,  and  old  Ireland,  too, 

Soggarth  aroon. 

For  sickness  or  fnmine  grim, 

Sogg  rth  aroon, 
This  bright  spot  couLi  never  dim, 

Soggarth  aroon. 
Despair  ca    e  wi  h  deadly  chill, 
Our  last  fainting  hope  to  kdl, 
But  the  twin  love  we  cherished  stilly 

Soggarth  aroon. 


(J* Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  113 

Has  poor  Ireland  nothing  left, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
This  last  wound  her  heart  has  cleft, 

Soggarth  aroon  ; 
Ah  !  well  may  her  salt  tears  flow, 
To  think — ob,  my  grief  and  woe  ! — 
To  think  'twas  you  struck  the  blow, 

Soggarth  aroon. 

We  crouch  'neath  the  tyrant's  heel, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
"We're  mute  while  his  lash  we  feel, 

Soggarth  aroon  ; 
And,  pining  in  dull  despair, 
His  wrongs  we,  like  cowards,  bear, 
But  traitors  we  never  were, 

Soggarth  aroon. 

And  "  stags"  you  would  make  us  now, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
You'd  stamp  on  the  bondman's  brow, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
Foul  treason's  red-burning  brand, 
Oh,  doomed  and  woe-stricken  land, 
Where  honor  and  truth  are  banned, 

Soggarth  aroon. 

To  those  dark  days  we  now  look  back, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
When  the  bloodhound  was  on  your  track, 

Soggarth  aroon, 
Then  we  spurned  *he  tyrant's  gold, 
The  pass  then  we  never  sold, 
We  are  still  what  we  were  of  old, 

Soggarth  aroon. 

Passages  in  this  poem  can  be  better  understood  when  I  say  that 
lome  priests  were  telling  the  people  from  the  altars  to  deliver  up  to 
the  police  any  one  they  found  attempting  to  enroll  men  in  the 
revolutionary  movement. 

When  I  went  to  chapel  next  Sunday  I  was  more  fortunate  than 
usual  in  getting  a  position  favorable  for  observation.  I  was  placed 
under  the  stairs,  the  officers  behind  me  could  not  see  my  head,  and 
when  I  found  the  eyes  of  the  others  off  me  I  managed  to  get  a  look 
at  those  who  were  around.  I  could  not  for  the  world  make  out  who 
Denis  Dowling  Mulcahy  and  Hugh  Brophy  were,  though  I  was  in- 
timately acquainted  with  them  in  Dublin.  The  clipping  of  their 
hair  and  beard  made  such  a  change  in  their  appearance  that  I  never 
recognized  them  until  I  got  a  chance  of  getting  a  whisper  with 
Hugh,  and  a  chance  of  getting  in  the  next  compartment  in  the  ex- 
ercise yard  with  John  Kenealy  one  day,  when  he  told  me  who 
Denis  was,  by  throwing  our  bits  of  slate  to  one  another  over  the 
wall  that  divided  us.  By-and-bye  I  found  that  Mulcahy  had  been 
trying  to  convey  the  latest  news  to  us  by  scratching  upon  the  walls, 


114  Q*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

A  few  words  were  written  on  one  brick,  which,  taken  by  themselves, 
meant  little  or  nothing ;  but  a  few  bricks  further  on  I  found  a  few 
words  more  which  made  a  connection.  In  this  way  I  learned  there 
was  no  fight  in  Ireland,  or  likely  to  be ;  but  that  there  was  lots  of 
fightiug  in  America,  and  likely  to  continue  from  the  number  of 
leaders  and  plans  they  had  to  free  Ireland.  I  suppose  my  spirits 
sank  a  little,  but  others  had  as  much  reason  to  be  low  spirited  as  I, 
and  I  thought  I  would  "  never  say  die."  I  imagined,  for  the  Irish-} 
Americans,  what  a  splendid  thing  it  would  be,  and  how  easily  we 
could  free  Ireland  if  we  had  rifles  and  cannon  of  three  thousand 
miles  range ;  then  we,  or  they  rather,  might  take  some  spot  to 
plant  our  artillery  on,  and  blow  England  to  atoms — that  is,  if  the 
American  Government  would  allow  them.  When  I  say  this  I  am 
not  sneering  at  those  who  would  strike  at  England  through  Canada, 
nor  am  I  approving  of  diverting  from  Irishmen  in  Ireland  the  aid 
that  was  contributed  to  assist  them  in  a  revolutionary  struggle 
there,  when  men  risked  their  lives  to  strike  at  England  anywhere. 
I  am  not  going  to  be  hard  on  them,  and  particularly  when  the 
Canadian  prisons  chain  at  this  hour  the  liberties  of  many  such  men. 
I  would  strike  her  everywhere  I  could,  but  I  would  rather  strike  her 
on  her  own  soil  than  anywhere  else  outside  of  Ireland,  for  it  is  on 
her  own  soil  that  she  would  feel  the  blows  most  severely.  The 
Manchester  affair  and  the  Clerkenwell  affair  and  the  Chester  affair 
struck  more  terror  into  English  statesmen  than  any  affairs  I  know ; 
and  if  she  apprehended  a  repetition  on  a  somewhat  larger  scale  of 
these  things  every  year  till  Ireland  were  free  she  might  be  more 
disposed  to  loosen  her  grasp  of  the  old  land.  If  the  tables  were 
turned  and  that  we  were  the  domineering  power,  England,  having 
the  element  in  Ireland  that  we  have  in  her,  would  not  scruple  doing 
anything  to  attain  her  ends,  and  would  have  burnt  or  blown  us  up 
long  ago.  I  have  conceived  these  notions  since  I  entered  prison ;  at 
least  they  have  been  cultivated  there  by  the  treatment  I  received 
and  by  the  spirit  displayed  toward  me  and  my  fellow-prisoners.  I  find 
myself  in  that  state  of  mind  that  I  wouldn't  scruple  doing  anything 
to  destroy  the  power  of  such  an  enemy,  and  that  is  no  more  than 
meeting  England  with  her  own  weapons.  She  will  say  this  is 
vicious  and  diabolical,  which  I  admit  it  is  ;  but  if  you  go  to  fight 
the  devil  you  may  as  well  put  your  hoofs  and  horns  on  at  once.  I 
remember  that  in  the  September  of  '65  I  was  entrusted  with  a  doc- 
ument for  James  Stephens  by  a  delegate  from  the  United  Irishmen 
of  a  part  of  England.  The  substance  of  it  was  that  in  case  of  a 
rising  in  Ireland  it  was  probable  England  would  send  all  her  troops 
to  crush  it ;  and  they  sought  permission  to  be  allowed  to  give  Eng- 
land as  much  trouble  at  home  as  would  frighten  her  and  oblige  her 
to  keep  all  her  soldiers  to  protect  herself  Permission  was  also 
sought  to  form  a  Vigilance  Committee  who  would  have  the  special 
care  of  any  traitors  that  might  turn  up,but  Mr.  Stephens  refused  both 
applications  ;  he  meant  to  fight   England  on  honorable  terms,  and 


(J Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  115 

in  observance  of  all  the  rules  of  civilized  warfare,  which  England 
would  not  do  with  him,  and  never  did  with  any  country  she  laid 
claim  to.  After  reading  the  paper  he  handed  it  to  me  remarking, 
"  that  is  a  most  curious  document,  and  would  be  interesting  for 
preservation,  only  for  the  danger  of  it."  "  What  am  I  to  do  with 
it,"  said  I.  "Do  what  you  like  with  it,"  said  he,  and  as  my  stand- 
ing instructions  were  to  destroy  all  dangerous  papers  that  passed  to 
me  except  such  as  I  was  told  to  preserve,  I  took  a  match  off  the 
mantelpiece  of  the  room  in  which  we  met.  and,  striking  a  light,  burnt 
them  to  oblivion  in  his  presence. 

I  knew  he'd  like  to  have  them  preserved,  and  I'd  like  to  preserve 
them  myself,  but  as  he  didn't  tell  me  do  so  I  did  my  duty  in  de- 
stroying them. 

The  letter  which  I  got  from  my  wife  was  a  kind  of  load  to  me  to  car- 
ry, as  I  could  not  communicate  the  news  of  it  to  any  one  else.  It  is 
said  that  sorrows  are  halved  and  pleasures  doubled  by  sharing  them 
with  another,  and  I  suppose  it  was  the  desire  to  increase  my  happi- 
ness that  made  me  desirous  to  get  a  chance  of  passing  the  letter  to 
one  or  more  of  my  companions.  I  took  it  with  me  to  exercise  every 
day  for  a  week  without  noticing  that  any  of  my  friends  were  lo- 
cated within  a  stone's  throw  of  me.  At  last  I  found  by  my  sound- 
ing that  the  Pagan  was  alongside,  and  tying  a  bit  of  a  slate  to  the 
paper  I  threw  it  over  the  wall.  I  got  the  slate  back  again  with  the 
words  "all  right"  written  on  it,  and  I  felt  as  happy  as  a  prince  that 
I  had  been  able  to  let  him  take  a  peep  at  the  outside  world.  I  ran 
a  great  risk  in  trying  to  communicate  in  this  manner,  but  the  reliei. 
I  felt  in  doing  what  I  desired  to  do  had  always  a  greater  influence 
over  me  than  the  fear  of  any  punishment  that  might  come  from  de- 
tection. If  I  was  sure  of  being  detected  I  mightn't  do  the  thing, 
but  where  there  is  a  way  or  a  chance  to  succeed  in  any  undertaking 
my  cautionary  bumps  are  not  yet  strongly  enough  developed  to  pre- 
vent me  from  making  a  trial.  More  cold-blooded,  more  prudent,  or 
more  wise  men  would  see  they  had  all  means  necessary  to  suc- 
cess before  they  took  up  any  adventure,  and  where  they  could  not 
grasp  all  the  means  they  would  not  attempt  anything.  Such  men 
would  never  free  a  fallen  land,  or  never  free  themselves  out  of  prison 
had  they  been  imprisoned  for  its  sake.  In  saying  this  I  hold  that 
we  ourselves  contributed  more  than  any  one  else  to  our  release  by 
the  efforts  we  made  to  make  our  treatment  known  to  the  world. 
England  would  do  us  to  death  if  it  were  possible  to  do  it  secretly. 
She  kept  punishing  us  for  the  efforts  we  were  making  to  expose  her, 
and  increased  her  precautions  to  hide  us  from  the  world,  according 
as  she  discovered  any  attempt  on  our  part  to  reach  the  public.  We 
succeeded  at  length,  at  least  Dennis  Dowling  Mulcahy  and  a  few 
others  did,  in  unmasking  the  hypocrites  who  were  proclaiming  that 
we  were  feasted  on  roast  beef  and  mulled  porter,  at  the  same  time 
that  they  had  us  manacled  in  the  darkest  of  their  black  holes  and 
were  starving  us  on  bread  and  water.     A  cry  of  indignation  arose 


116  0  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

that  burst  the  prison  gates  for  some  of  us ;  for  the  tyrants  felt 
they  were  being  degraded  brfore  the  eyes  of  the  world ;  but  they 
were  mean  enough  to  hold  others  on  the  miserable  and  false  pretext 
that  tney  were  not  political  offenders.  These  are  the  soldiers,  and 
the  men  arrested  in  England  on  charges  of  transmitting  arms  to 
Ireland  and  rescuing  men  in  Manchester  who  were  charged  with 
promoting  revolution  in  Ireland. 

It  was  eight  or  ten  days  before  the  Pagan  could  get  a  chance  of 
throwing  me  back  my  letter,  and  during  that  time  I  fell  in  with  John 
Kenealy,  Brian  Dillon  and  John  Lynch,  and  had  some  correspond- 
ence with  them  over  the  wall.  When  I  had  all  the  latest  news  that 
they  had  brought  from  Ireland,  the  burden  of  our  telegraphs  were 
made  up  of  cold  and  hunger.  We  felt  both  intensely,  and  when 
the  doctor  visited  us,  as  he  did  once  or  twice  a  week,  I  thought  there 
could  be  no  crueller  mockery  of  my  state  than  his  asking  me  if  I 
used  to  eat  all  my  food.  I  applied  to  him  a  couple  of  times,  when 
he  visited  me,  for  flannels  and  for  more  food.  I  did  not  do  this  in  a 
supplicating  tone.  I  told  him  that  as  a  political  prisoner  I  had  a 
right  to  a  sufficiency  of  coarse  food  and  clothing,  that  I  asked  him 
for  them  as  a  matter  of  right,  and  if  the  authorities  would  not  give 
them  that  I  would  apply  to  have  my  friends  be  permitted  to  supply 
me.  He'd  say  I  had  as  much  food  and  clothing  as  the  prison  regu- 
lations would  permit,  and  no  additional  food  or  clothing  from  any 
one  outside  the  prison  was  ever  allowed  to  a  prisoner.  This  was  his 
invariable  reply,  and  I  invariably  told  him  I  made  the  applica- 
tion not  expecting  to  succeed,  but  in  order  that  I  should  have  noth- 
ing to  upbraid  myself  with  in  case  my  health  failed  under  this  pro- 
cess of  cold  and  starvation, 

I  awoke  from  my  dreamy  sleep  one  morning  about  the  1st  of 
March  and  found  myself  utterly  prostrated.  For  three  days  I  was 
laid  up  with  an  attack  of  dysentery.  The  doctor  ordered  me  medi- 
cine, which  the  medicine  man  brought  me  three  times  a  day.  Orders 
were  issued  that  I  be  kept  in  my  cell  altogether;  that  I  get  no 
airing  or  exercise,  but  I  would  not  be  allowed  to  stay  in  bed  or  ab- 
stain from  work.  An  ordinary  prisoner  would,  as  far  as  I  have 
since  learned,  be  sent  to  hospital  under  similar  circumstances,  but 
there  was  no  hospital  for  me  there  or  thereafter  when  seized  with 
any  illness.  The  doctor  ordered  me  a  flannel  waistcoat  when  he 
saw  how  I  was  affected.  Probably  he  thought  my  blood  was  cooled 
enough  by  this  time.  I  asked  him  if  he  would  not  afford  me  draw- 
ers with  the  waistcoat,  and  he  said  he  would  see,  but  a  sight  of  them 
I  never  saw. 

Another  rhange  came  to  me  about  this  time.  One  morning 
when  I  was  ordered  out  ior  my  exercise,  I,  instead  of  being  first 
sent  to  the  refractory  place,  found  myself  ordered  into  the  large 
yard  where  all  the  thieves  were  tramping  around  each  other  in  con- 
centric circles. 

Here  I  found  myself  in  the  midst  of  company,  not  very  select 


(y Donovan  Rossa?$  Prison  Life.  117 

company,  indeed,  yet  behaving  themselves  pretty  decently.  It  was 
a  change,  maybe,  for  the  better,  and  the  variety  of  features  and 
forms  to  look  upon  made  it  interesting.  I  had  no  society  before;  I 
couldn't  get  a  look  at  the  fa<e  of  a  prisoner ;  but  now  I  found  my- 
self in  a  new  life,  and  the  question  was,  whether  to  take  it  or  kick 
against  it.  I  was  thinking  that  if  I  were  t<>  be  separated  fro  •.  my 
companions  and  associated  at  any  time  with  these  very  hard  charac- 
ters, I  would  rebel;  but  here  there  was  no  assoei  tio'n  as  yet. 
I  had  to  walk  five  paces  distant  from  my  neighbor.  1  dared  not 
speak  to  him,  nor  dared  he  speak  to  me,  and  on  this  occasion  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  take  the  world  as  it  came.  I  saw  Charles 
Kickham,  md  John  Lynch,  and  Br:an  Dillon,  and  the  Pagan,  and 
Michael  Moore,  and  Thomas  Duggan,  and  others  in  the  same  cr  wd, 
but  no  two  of  our  men  were  allowed  near  each  other;  four  or  five 
thieves  were  always  between  them.  We  often  had  a  wink  at 
each  other  in  turning  the  circles  at  certain  places.  The 
first  circle  was  about  twenty  yards  in  diameter,  the  second  thirty, 
the  third  forty,  and  so  on.  The  man  in  the  inner  ring  made  more 
circuits  than  the  man  in  the  ring  next  to  him.  So  that  if  we  did 
not  strike  upon  each  other  when  we  entered  the  yard  at  first,  we 
were  sure  to  pass  each  other  repeatedly  during  the  hour.  The 
warders,  on  mounds  raised  between  th>'  circles  and  overlooking  the 
men,  kept  vigilant  watch  over  al!,  and  hid  their  eyes  upon  us  par- 
ticularly. The  Pagan  was  one  time  noticed  giving  me  a  salute  by 
rubbing  his  finger  down  along  his  nose.  I  was  noticed  doing  the 
same,  and  both  of  us  were  told  that  if  we  did  not  keep  our  hands 
by  our  sides,  we  would  be  sent  in  and  put  under  report. 

I  saw  Kickham  pulled  up  one  time  for  having  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  with  one  stuck  into  the  sleeve  of  the  other  to  protect  them 
from  the  cold.  This  was  forbidden;  one  should  always  walk  with 
his  hands  by  his  side,  a  id  on  cold  frosty  mornings,  you  may  see 
every  man  on  the  field  with  i  shoulders  and  his  hands  shrugged 
up  in  the  effort  to  make  the  1  -ves  of  his  jacket  cover  the  tips  of 
his  fingers.  Brian  Dillon  made  signs  to  me  one  day  which  put  me 
in  bad  spirits.  Whenever  I  passed  I  could  notice  that  he  pointed 
to  the  ground,  and  the  information  I  drew  from  it  was  that  he  was 
sinking  into  his  grave. 

John  Lynch  set  me  thinking  another  day  ;  he  gave  me  a  regular 
puzzle,  by  giving  a  little  jerk  to  his  hand,  as  if  he  was  throwing  a 
stone  ;  and  I  at  length  remembered  that  day  was  the  10th  of  March, 
that  it  was  the  anniversary  of  the  Prince  of  Wales's  marriage,  three 
years  before,  when  the  people  of  Cork  broke  the  windows  that  were 
illuminated,  and  John  was  tried  for  being  one  of  the  people.  As 
we  were  passing  a^am  I  returned  the  jerk,  giving  a  look  of  intelli- 
gence. He  whispered,  "  Oh,  Rossa,  the  cold  is  killing  me,"  and  it 
did  kill  the  poor  fellow.  I  missed  him  from  the  ground 
a  few  days  after.  H ■'  sank  under  the  treatment  of  the  assassins 
at  Pentonville,  or  rather   under  the  treatment   especially  ordered 


118  O*  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life. 

for  us  by  the  State  authorities,  he  was  sent  to  Woking  Hospi- 
tal, and  from  there,  in  a  few  months  after,  to  the  prison  graveyard. 
€rod  rest  his  soul !  is  all  I  can  say  for  him,  and  I  suppose  it  would 
be  wrong  and  useless  for  me  to  pray  to  God  to  blast  that  assassin 
regime  which  crushed  it  out  so  soon.  I  don't  pray  much,  but  if  I 
believed  in  its  efficacy  in  this  latter  direction,  I  would  pray  noon 
and  night  and  morning.  God  will  not  send  down  fire  from  heaven 
to  do  for  us  what  He  ordains  man  shall  do  for  himself,  but  which, 
in  the  abasement  of  the  noble  soul  He  has  given  us,  we  are  too 
cowardly  to  do.  Indeed,  some  of  us  are  blasphemously  base  enough 
to  find  excuses  for  not  doing  our  duty  by  indirectly  charging  the 
author  of  our  being  with  being  the  author  of  our  degradation.  "  It 
is  God's  will."  It  is  from  Him  comes  all  temporal  authority;  it  is 
He  has  established  British  rule  in  Ireland,  an  I  given  us  Cromwells. 
I  simply  say  I  don't  believe  one  word  of  it.  I  can't  believe  it. 
Neither  can  I  believe  that  it  is  His  hand  is  scattering  us  over  the 
world.  What  have  our  ancestors  done  that  should  entail  upon  us 
the  curse  of  the  Jews?  What  has  the  Island  of  Saints  done  that 
its  children  should  be  the  outcasts  of  society,  the  pariahs  of  the 
world,  the  servants  of  the  servants  of  men  ?  Look  at  our  men 
when  they  come  to  this  great  America ;  have  not  they  to  begin  life, 
the  best  of  them,  the  most  intelligent  of  them,  and  certainly  the 
most  virtuous  of  them,  by  becoming,  what  we  are  sneeringly  called, 
the  "hod  carriers,"  the  hewers  of  wood  and  the  drawers  of  water? 
Look  at  our  women,  the  virtuous  daughters  of  our  virtuous  peas- 
antry ;  have  they  not  to  commence  life  in  this  country,  have  they 
not  to  make  their  first  start  as  "  the  servants  of  the  servants  of 
men  ?"  And  of  men  and  women,  how  many  of  them  are  lost,  moral- 
ly and  physically,  before  they  emerge  from  the  probationary  state? 
How  few  of  these  become  rich  and  respectable  compared  to  the 
many  who  live  and  die  poor  and  unhappy,  much  unhappier  than 
they  would  live  and  die  in  the  old  land  ? 

And  there  is  England  that  has  been  cursed  by  Popes  and  pre- 
lates these  hundreds  of  years  fattening  upon  our  ruin,  and  we, "  the 
chosen  people,"  enslaved  and  degraded  by  the  accursed.  The  chosen 
and  the  elect  of  olden  times  were  blessed  and  promised  to  be  blessed 
with  the  fat  of  the  land — that  is,  the  blessing  that  all  people  with- 
out distinction  of  creed,  class,  race  or  caste  seem  to  prize  most,  and 
I  could  wish  to  heaven  that  some  curse  or  blessing  would  send  it  to  the 
people  of  Ireland  in  Ireland,  for  nowhere  else  through  the  wide, 
wide  world  could  they  enjoy  it  better.  I  learned  some  way  or 
another  at  my  mother's  knee  (I  am  not  going  to  say  that  I  was 
taught  it),  that  the  poor  were  the  heirs  of  heaven  and  the  rich  the 
heirs  of  hell,  and  that  if  the  state  of  both  were  different  here  so 
would  it  be  different  hereafter.  The  tables  were  to  be  turned  en- 
tirely. I  think  some  opinion  or  feeling  of  this  kind  prevailed 
among  the  peasantry  of  my  neighborhood.  I  don't  say  it  was  that 
made  them  poor  or  kept  them  poor,  at  the  same  time  that  I  think  it 


CP  Donovan  Rosso*  s  Prison  Life,  119 

might  have  tended  to  make  them  contented  and  peaceable  under  land- 
lord and  all  other  oppression.  To  suffer  in  this  world  was  a  passport 
to  a  blissful  reward  in  the  next.  I  still  hope  it  is,  and  indeed 
partly  believe  it  if  we  suffer  in  an  effort  to  upraise 
our  fallen  native  land,  or  suffer  in  any  effort  to  relieve  the 
sufferings  of  our  fellow-man  ;  but  when  I  grew  up  and  saw 
that  the  ministers  of  all  religions  were  more  desirous  to  associate 
with  the  heirs  of  hell  than  with  the  heirs  of  heaven,  the  prejudices, 
as  I  may  so  say,  of  my  youth  passed  away,  and  I  tried  to  become 
rich,  but  some  stain  seemed  to  remain  that  prevented  me,  and  pre- 
vents me  still,  and  will,  I  fear,  ever  prevent  me.  But,  any  way,  I 
Bee  no  virtue  in  poverty  or  slavery,  nor  do  I  see  that  any  one  else, 
lay  or  cleric,  sees  it  either.  If  possible,  I  will  try  to  get  out  of  both, 
and  if  I  cannot  succeed,  it  maybe  as  happy  a  thing  as  I  can  do  to 
return  to  the  old  idea,  and  that  reminds  me  that  I  ought  to  return 
to  my  story. 

Well,  the  days  rolled  on — but  no,  they  didn't  roll  on,  they 
dragged  their  slow  length  along  in  snail-creep  fashion,  and  as  for 
the  nights,  they  wer  very  little  better.  The  thoughts  that  troubled 
me  during  the  day  I  tried  to  count  out  of  my  head  by  count- 
ing the  stitches  I  put  into  the  clothes  I  was  making,  but  when  the 
gas  was  turned  off,  and  when  sleep  would  not  come,  I  could  not 
keep  myself  from  counting  over  the  memories  of  the  past,  the  friends 
and  the  friends'  meetings  of  bygone  days.  I  do  not  know  that  it 
made  me  anything  happier  to  think  of  these  things.  I  do  not  know 
that  I  could,  under  such  circumstances,  sing — 

"  Long,  long  be  my  heart  with  such  memories  filled." 

Indeed,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  I  think  it  would  be  well  if  my 
mind  became  blank,  and  that  it  retained  no  impression  of  life  only 
what  it  received  since  I  came  into  prison.  It  seems  to  me  that  memo- 
ries of  past  pleasures  do  not  tend  to  happiness,  unless  you  are  in  a 
position  of  repeating  them  should  an  opportunity  offer.  If  it  is  im- 
possible for  you  to  repeat  them,  if  you  are  a  pauper,  or  a  prisoner, 
or  a  fallen  unfortunate  character  any  way,  the  memory  of  what  you 
were  or  what  you  enjoyed  as  a  virtuous  man  or  a  freeman  brings 
more  of  pain  with  it  than  pleasure.  So  at  least,  I  often  thought, 
and,  I  believe,  felt,  those  nights  that  I  lay  down  on  my  hard  bed 
after  my  day's  communion  with  my  needle  and  thread.  I  could 
make  no  approach  to  sleep  till  about  twelve  o'clock,  then,  in  my 
dreamy  sleep,  felt  myself  turning  to  ease  my  limbs  till  half  past 
four,  which  was  the  usual  length  of  my  doze. 

Some  two  months  after  I  wrote  the  "  petition  "  to  the  Secretary 
of  State,  asking  him  for  permission  to  write  to  an  English  member 
of  Parliament,  the  governor  sent  for  me  and  told  me  my  prayer 
was  refused.  I  wish  I  had  a  copy  of  this  petition  to  put  before  my 
readers.     I   dare  say  it  was   not  considered  humble  enough,  like 


120  CP  Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life. 

another  I  wrote  afterwards  in  Portland.  I  managed  to  retain  a 
copy  of  this,  and  I  intend  giving  it  in  its  place  when  I  am  some 
<dght  months  longer  in  prison. 

When  coming  from  Mass  one  Wednesday  morning  I  chanced  to 
strike  upon  Mr.  Charles  Underwood  O'Connell.  We  were  ordered 
out  of  the  chapel  one  by  one  and  had  to  keep  some  twelve  paces 
apart  while  walking  along  the  passages  and  corridors;  each  of  us 
carried  his  stool  between  his  hands ;  Charley  turned  a  corner  and 
seeing  no  one  in  sight,  he,  as  I  rounded  the  same  corner,  turned  his 
face  toward  me,  and  in  a  spasmodic  whisper  said :  "  I  was  dreaming 
about  you  these  two  nights  past,  and  you'll  shortly  hear  some  im- 
portant news." 

Sitting  down  in  my  cell  I  commenced  stitching  away  without 
counting  my  stitches  this  time.  Charley's  dreams  chimed  in  so 
ominously  wTith  day  dreams  of  my  own  that  I  could  not  help  dwell- 
ing on  what  he  told  me,  and  as  I  played  with  my  thoughts  I  was 
startled  from  my  reverie  by  the  turning  of  the  key  in  the  lock.  My 
keeper  entered  and  said  "  come  on."  "  Where  now  ?"  "  Never 
mind,"  said  he,  "  but  obey  orders."  On  I  marched  till  I  was  halted 
opposite  the  door  of  the  Governor's  room.  "  Throw  your  cap  down 
there,"  and  down  I  threw  my  cap.  "  Why  do  you  throw  it  down 
that  way  ?"  "  Didn't  you  tell  me  throw  it  dowm."  "  Silence,"  and 
here  I  obeyed  orders.  The  door  was  opened  from  the  inside,  and 
the  man  outside,  in  a  voice  that  startled  me,  roared  out  "Forward." 

In  a  second  I  stood  before  the  Governor,  and  he  sat  before  me 
holding  a  letter  in  his  hand.  Just  as  I  was  in  position,  my  accom* 
panying  guardian  again  bawled  out,  "  Number  Thirty-four  eleven 
A  Two  Twenty-seven  Convict  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  Life," 
and  the  Governor  in  response  to  that,  addressing  me,  said: 

"I  have  sent  for  yon  to  tell  you  that  I  have  received  a  letter 
from  your  wife,  but,  inasmuch  as  no  letter  is  due  to  you,  I  cannot 
give  it  into  your  hands,  yet,  as  the  news  it  contains  is  of  a  family 
nature,  and  as  the  prison  rules  give  us  a  discretionary  power  to 
communicate  to  prisoners  any  information  similar  to  what  this  let- 
ter contains,  I  am  able  to  inform  you  that  on  the  30th  of  April  your 
wife  was  delivered  of  a  son,  that  she  is  not  yet  strong  enough  to  be 
out  of  bed,  and  that  the  child  is  to  be  christened  James  Maxwell, 
after  the  names  of  her  father  and  brother,"  and,  addressing  my 
keeper,  he  added,  "  that  will  do."  The  keeper  gave  the  order  of 
"  right  about  face,"  and  as  I  raised  my  hand  to  him  to  signify  that 
I  wished  to  speak  a  few  words  with  the  Governor,  he  raised  his  club 
and  ordered  me  to  keep  my  hands  by  my  side. 

The  Governor  asked  what  did  I  want,  and  I  asked  him  if  he'd 
be  pleased  to  allow  me  read  the  letter ;  he  said  he  could 
not  give  me  possession  ot  it,  but  on  asking  him  to  read  it 
for  me,  he  did,  and  I  thanked  him.  I  then  inquired  if  I 
would  be  allowed  to  write  to  my  wife,  and  I  was  told 
I    would    not;     that    the    prison    rules   allowed    a    prisoner  only 


O*  Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life.  121 

one  letter  every  six  months.  I  told  him  I  had  only  written  one  let- 
ter since  my  conviction,  that  I  was  about  five  months  a  convict, 
and  that  under  the  circumstances  of  my  wife  being  ill  I  might  be 
allowed  to  write  my  second  letter  a  month  in  advance.  He  in- 
formed me  that  could  not  be — that  I  should  wait  until  six  months 
after  the  date  of  my  last  letter  before  I  could  write  again.  "  But  I 
was  three  months  in  prison  before  I  was  allowed  to  write  that  first 
letter  which  I  ought  to  be  permitted  to  write  on  my  entrance,"  He 
couldn't  help  that ;  every  letter  must  count  from  the  writing  of  the 
previous  one,  and  I  could  not  write  for  four  months  longer.  I  was 
saying  something  about  this  being  worse  than  the  treatment  of  an 
ordinary  thief  or  pickpocket,  but  before  I  had  finished  he  motioned 
his  hand  to  the  keeper,  who  then  roared  out  his  "  right  about  face," 
and  the  other  warders  present  making  a  move  toward  me,  I  thought 
discretion  the  better  part  of  valor  and  faced  the  door.  In  a  mo- 
ment after,  I  found  myself  locked  up  in  my  cell,  and  I  am  not  sure 
now  whether  this  event  of  the  birth  of  a  sixth  son,  which  makes 
every  father  rejoice,  was  not  a  subject  rather  of  grief  than  joy  to  me. 
I  paced  my  cell,  unmindful  of  the  rules  and  regulations  that  forbade 
me  to  do  so  during  working  hours,  but  I  was  soon  startled  from  my 
meditations  by  a  voice  through  the  keyhole  of  my  door  crying  out, 
"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  Stop  that  walking  instantly  and  go 
to  your  work." 

I  sat  down  upon  my  little  stool,  the  Bible  and  the  prayer-book 
and  the  other  religious  book  lay  on  the  little  table  before  me,  and 
instead  of  praying  as  a  good  man  ought  to  do,  I  dwelt  upon  the 
hypocrisy  of  these  people  that  supplied  me  with  such  books  and 
trampled  under  foot  all  the  principles  of  religion  they  contained. 
Here  was  my  wife  delivered  of  a  child  seven  months  after  I  had 
been  taken  away  from  her,  and  they  would  not  allow  me  to  write  a 
line  to  her!  No,  I  did  not  pray  on  the  occasion,  but  I  felt  it  would 
be  a  relief  to  me  if  I  could  curse,  and  if  the  high  authorities  who 
ordered  this  treatment  toward  me  were  within  my  reach,  I  do  not 
know  that  I  would  not  have  pitched  their  Bible  in  their  face  and 
hurled  a  malediction  at  them  with  it. 

I  have  read  many  stories  of  the  conversion  of  prisoners  confined 
in  solitary  cells  in  the  prisons  of  America  and  England,  through  the 
discipline  of  allowing  them  no  other  book  but  a  Bible  while  under 
punishment,  but  the  practice  seemed  unnatural  to  me,  and  I  could 
never  realize  tnat  equanimity  necessary  for  solid  or  permanent 
reformation  of  the  mind  through  the  same  agency  that  tortured 
the  body  to  bring  it  about. 

I  used  to  read  five  chapters  of  my  Bible  every  day,  and  I  made 
a  shift  one  time  to  steal  a  Bible,  when,  for  increased  punishment,  it 
was  decreed  that  I  should  not  get  a  book  or  Bible  tor  six  months, 
but  I  well  remember  that  once  I  could  have  torn  the  book  in  fritters 
to  express  my  sense  of  their  abuse  of  it  when  they  starved  me  on 
"bread  and  water"  for  twenty-eight  days  in  a  darkened  cell,  in 
8 


122  0 'Donovan  Rosso/ s  Prison  Life. 

which  they  specially  built  a  privy,  leaving  it  without  a  cover, 
end  never  leaving  me  in  the  open  air  for  one  hour  during  that  time. 
I  had  nothing  but  the  Bible  allowed,  and  I  could  think  of  nothing 
but  the  hunger  that  gnawed  my  vitals  and  the  stench  that  was  thick 
about  me  in  the  warm  July  days.  Yes,  I  would  have  torn  up  that 
Bible  to  express  my  sense  of  their  abuse  of  it,  only  that  I  was  sure  it 
would  be  the  first  thing  they  would  use  in  public  against  me  to  show 
what  a  hopelessly  irreligious  and  desperate  character  I  was.  The 
thoughts  tha^".  occur  to  a  man  in  his  prison  life  are  a  part  of  the  world's 
history,  and  if  men  who  have  been  confined  for  years  would  or  could 
give  what  passes  through  their  minds,  philanthropists  and  those  in- 
terested in  the  reformation  of  criminals  and  their  proper  treatment 
would  have  a  better  guide  to  lead  them  than  all  the  advice  that 
could  be  given  on  this  head  by  theorists  and  philosophers  who  study 
human  nature  outside  prison  walls. 

Father  Zanetti  came  to  me  a  day  or  two  after  I  heard  the  news 
of  my  getting  a  young  son,  and  I  spoke  of  the  heartlessness  of  my 
jailors.  Patience,  obedience  and  resignation  were  his  panacea  for 
all  the  ills  of  life,  and  he  enjoined  me  to  cultivate  them  as  diligent- 
ly as  I  could.  He  put  several  questions  to  me  that  he  never  before 
touched  upon,  asked  if  I  didn't  feel  my  chest  sinking,  my  breath  get- 
tin^  short,  and  my  legs  getting  weak.  I  said  "  Yes  "  to  all.  When 
he  was  gone,  I  began  to  think  what  it  meant,  and  I  concluded 
there  was  something  in  the  wind  that  denoted  a  change  of  climate. 
The  following  Sunday  Canon  Oakley,  in  preaching  his  sermon  to 
us,  touched  also  upon  something  new,  and  when  he  had  ended,  I 
gave  a  significant  look  at  one  of  my  companions  sitting  next  to  me. 
An  officer  saw  me,  raised  his  stick,  and  threatened  that  if  he  caught 
me  again  turning  my  head  aside,  it  would  be  worse  for  me.  After 
the  priest  withdrew,  he  commenced  badgering  me  again,  telling  me 
if  I  did  not  conduct  myself  properly,  he  would  make  me.  I  was 
very  near  breaking  out  and  telling  him  to  keep  his  tongue  to  him- 
self, and  to  conduct  himself  then  any  way  he  thought  proper.  He 
annoyed  me  so  much  that  when  I  went  to  my  cell  I  made  a  resolu- 
tion that  I  would  not  quietly  stand  such  abuse  again.  Indeed,  so 
disgusted  was  I  with  myself  for  listening  quietly  to  it,  that  I  re- 
solved I  would  take  a  look  the  very  next  Sunday  and  giye  him  a  bit 
of  my  mind  if  he  attacked  me.  But  that  next  Sunday  never  came 
to  us  in  Pentonville,  for  on  Wednesday  morning,  at  six  o'clock,  we 
were  taken  out  of  our  cells  and  marshalled  into  line  on  the  same 
spot  as  the  night  we  entered.  The  scales  were  there  before  us,  and 
one  by  one,  as  we  stepped  on  and  off,  a  record  was  taken  of  our 
weight.  I  had  reduced  eight  pounds  since  I  came  to  London,  but 
others  had  fared  worse.  Cornelius  Keane,  Michael  O'Reagan  and  a 
few  more  had  each  reduced  as  much  as  thirty  pounds.  The  chains 
and  the  handcuffs  were  brought  into  requisition.  I  found  myself 
tied  in  a  chain  that  held  eight  of  us.  It  ran  through  the  handcuffs, 
and  a  lock  attached  each  of  us  to  a  particular  part  of  the  chain,  so 


O'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  123 


that  neither  of  us  could  slip  away  from  his  position.  In  this  man- 
ner we  were  ushered  into  a  van  that  was  in  waiting  for  us  in  the 
courtyard  of  the  prison.  Eight  more  of  us  were  put  into  a  second 
one,  the  remainder  into  a  third,  the  gates  opened  and  we  had  a 
drive  through  the  streets  of  that  gr^at  city,  London. 

Having  arrived  at  the  station  of  the  railroad  that  was  to  lead  us 
to  another  prison,  detectives  and  policemen  were  there  in  readiness 
to  conduct  us  to  our  carriages.  The  three  chainfulls  of  us  were  es- 
corted into  one  car,  and  the  jailers  who  ha  1  charge  of  us  took  their 
seats  in  our  midst.  One  old  fellow  had  charge  of  the  escort ;  he 
held  the  papers  and  orders  connected  with  us.  but  he  was  as  grum 
as  a  statue,  and  we  could  not  get  a  word  out  of  him.  The  train 
moved  away  from  the  station,  and,  addressing  the  commander-in- 
chief,  I  said — "Governor,  where  can  we  be  going  to  now  ?  "He  only 
shook  his  head ;  another  officer  cried  "  hush ;"  a  third  said  there 
was  no  speaking  allowed  ;  one  of  the  prisoners  observed  that  we 
certainly  ought  to  be  allowed  to  speak  a  few  words  now,  a  second 
seconded  the  motion ;  Denis  Dowling  Mulcahy  debated  the  ques- 
tion with  the  jailers,  who  were  threatening  to  report  us  when  we 
arrived  at  our  destination.  At  length  the  final  arrangement  was 
come  to  that  we  may  talk  a  little  while  the  train  was  in  motion,  but 
we  were  to  keep  a  silent  tongue  in  our  head  during  the  time  it 
remained  at  every  station. 

Our  guardians  carried  with  them  two  or  three  canvass  bags, 
and  the  contents  of  these  turned  out  to  be  bread  and  cheese  for 
dinner. 

Orders  had  been  given  that  we  were  not  to  be  allowed  out  of  the 
cars  till  we  reached  the  end  of  our  journey,  which  we  did  about 
three  o'clock  in  the  evening. 

The  prison  vans  were  in  waiting  for  us  at  the  Portland  terminus, 
accompanied  by  the  necessary  amount  of  guards.  I  sat  in  front  on 
the  first  one,  and,  as  it  was  moved  out,  a  drunken  soldier  staggered 
towards  us  and  said,  "  God  knows,  my  poor  fellows,  I  pity  ye." 
The  jailer  roared  out,  "  Get  away  out  of  there  or  I'll  have  you 
under  arrest  immediately,"  and  the  poor  unfortunate,  looking 
sympathetically,  turned  his  back  upon  us.  Twenty  minutes  after- 
wards we  were  safely  lodged  inside  the  walls  of  Portland  Convict 
Prison. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


LODGED       IN       PORTLAND BOOTS       AND       BOOKS NEW      CELLS RAIN 

DOWN DIRECTOR    PAGAN    FROM    CORK HIS    LETTER    REGARDING 

US NO    CATHOLIC  OR  IRISH  WARDERS  TO    HAVE    CHARGE    OF    US 

THE    BROAD    ARROW "  AMULETS  OR  CHARMS  " THE  WASH-HOUSE 

STATIONARY-TUBS     AND    SOAP     SUDS DODGING     ABOUT     FOR     A 

CLEAN    JOB    OF     WORK PUMPING     AND     PICKING     LINEN DENIS 

DOWLING    MULCAHY  OUR    PRIEST HIS    SERMONS    AND    PSALMS A 

SUNDAY  IN  PORTLAND PARADE    AND    SALAAMS OIL  AND    BLACK- 
ING  "  ORDERLIES  "  AND    SLOP THE    EVIL    EYE FORBIDDEN    TO 

WALK  OR  STRETCH    IN    MY    CELL BREAD    AND    WATER DIETARY 

TABLE. 

Having  arrived  inside  the  gates  of  the  establishment,we  stood  side 
by  side  in  the  waiting-room  of  the  prison.  Our  chains  were  un- 
loosed, our  names  were  called,  and  as  we  answered  we  were  told 
to  strip.  This  we  did  in  the  presence  of  the  company  ;  and,  leaving 
our  clothes  behind  us,  we  marched  into  the  ba  h-room.  After  going 
through  our  ablutions,  we  found  new  clothes  ready  for  us,  and, 
being  dressed,  we  were  ordered  back  to  the  hall  from  which  we 
came.  The  old  clothes  had  vanished.  If  we  had  anything  con- 
cealed in  them,  these  were  the  precautions  taken  to  deprive 
us  of  the  contraband  article.  Our  names  were  again 
called,  and,  as  we  answered,  each  of  us  got  three  religious  books 
and  a  library  book.  This  latter  was  o  be  changed  once  a  fort- 
night, and  the  religious  ones  were  to  be  permanent  stock.  Two 
school-books  were  also  allowed,  which  could  be  changed  every 
three  months.  Some  of  us  took  a  grammar  and  arithmetic,  others 
a  dictionary  and  Mensuration,  and  more  a  Euclid  and  class  book. 
Such  books  as  Euclids  and  Mensurations  would  not  be  allowed  to 
us  when  we  got  to  the  London  prison,  lest  they  should  teach  us 
anything  that  would  facilitate  our  escape. 

We  were  lodged  in  basement  cells  which  were  never  before 
occupied.  They  were  in  size  7  feet  by  3£,  and  separated  from 
one  another  by  corrugated  iron.  The  flooring  was  of  flags, 
the  ventilators  and  windows  of  cast  iron,  so  that  we  were  sur- 
rounded by  no  very  warming  influences.  Taking  with  that  the 
fact  that  when  it  rained  the  water  poured  down  into  these  cells,  so 


O*  Donovan  Boasts  Prison  Life.  125 

much  so  that  I  had  often  to  leave  my  hammock  at  night  and  huddle 
myself  into  a  corner,  it  can  be  understood  that,  however  we  were 
boarded,  we  were  not  very  comfortably  lodged. 

I  have  before  me  now  the  report  of  five  Commissioners  who  in- 
quired into  our  treatment  in  the  Summer  of  1870,  and  I  take  from  it 
a  few  questions  and  answers  in  corroboration  of  what  I  say  of  this 
"  rain  down."  Of  course  the  prison  officials  make  the  shower  as 
light  as  they  can. 

Doctor  Lyons,  one  of  the  Commissioners,  asks — "  Is  it  possible 
that  rain  water  could  have  got  in  and  flooded  these  cells  and  wetted 
the  bed  clothes  and  beds  ?" 

Mr.  Clifton — "  It  is  quite  possible  that  in  the  extraordinary 
heavy  gales  we  have  here,  and  the  building  being  built  of  wood, 
that  there  is  water  sifting  through  the  wood,  and  it  very  often  hap- 
pens that  a  man's  blankets  may  get  damp  in  the  night,  or  slightly 
wet  in  a  few  of  the  cells  that  are  exposed  to  the  west  and  south 
winds.  And  on  these  occasions  that  the  treason-felony  prisoners 
have  complained  to  me  that  these  cells  were  flooded,  I  visited  the 
cells  myself,  and  there  were  signs  of  there  being  moisture  and  wet 
in  the  places,  and  the  blankets  were  slightly  wet." 

Doctor  Lyons — "  While  the  cells  were  in  that  imperfect  condi- 
tion did  you  happen  to  direct  that  the  prisoners  should  be  removed 
to  other  cells  ?" 

Mr.  Clifton — "  I  had  no  other  cells  to  send  them  to  at  the  time, 
unless  I  located  them  with  the  other  prisoners,  which  I  knew  would 
be  so  distasteful  to  them." 

To  me  who  knew  how  very  little  these  jailers  accommodated 
matters  to  our  tastes  or  our  distastes,  it  was  amusing  to  hear  the 
Governor  of  Portland  say  he  did  not  remove  us  from  wet  cells 
because  he  should  put  us  in  the  society  of  thieves,  "  and  that  would 
be  distasteful  to  us."  It  may  be  interesting,  to  give  the  in- 
structions that  followed  us  to  Portland,  and  to  observe  that  these 
instructions  were  written  by  an  Irishman  and  a  Catholic,  by  the  son 
of  a  man  who  was  champion  of  Catholicity  and  "  Emancipation," 
and  an  associate  of  Daniel  O'Connell's — William  Fagan,  Member  of 
Parliament  for  Cork.  And  men  like  him  got  an  "  Emancipation  " 
which  left  us  enslaved.  It  freed  themselves  from  the  disabilities 
which  prevented  them  from  filling  Government  positions — it  with- 
drew their  support  from  the  cause  of  nationality — the  cause  of  the 
people  at  large,  and  opened  a  way  for  the  Keoghs  and  the  O'Hagans 
to  arrive  at  a  position  where  they  could  become  the  oppressors  of 
their  own  race  instead  of  remaining  with  the  people  and  discharging 
their  duty  as  the  assertors  or  the  champions  of  their  country's  inde- 
pendence. Not  alone  is  the  "  lamp  that  lights  them  through  dig- 
nity's way  caught  from  the  flame  where  their  country  expires,"  but 
they  are  very  glad  to  set  the  country  in  flames  and  their  fellow- 
countrymen  in  chains  in  order  to  find  favor  with  the  enemies  of 
Irish  liberty. 


126  (J Donovan  llossas  Prison  Di/'e. 

Mr.  Clifton,  the  Governor  of  Chatham  Prison,  is  further  ques- 
tioned by  Lord  Devon  as  to  the  instructions  he  received  regarding 
us.  He  says  he  received  no  instructions  until  he  wrote  for  them; 
and  till  he  got  an  answer  he  put  us  in  the  wash-house : — 

"  Her  Majesty's  Prison,  Portland,  ) 
Governor's  Office,  May  15,  1866.  \ 
Sir  :  I  have  the  honor  to  acquaint  you  that  I  received  yesterday 
twenty-four  Irish  treason-felony  convicts  from  Pentonville  Prison, 
pursuant  to  warrant  dated  5th  inst.,  but  I  have  not  yet  been  fur- 
nished with  the  instructions  as  to  their  treatment  referred  to  in  the 
circular  letter  ot  the  9th  inst.  The  Secretary  of  the  Board  of  Direc* 
tors  intimated  to  me  that  they  were  coming,  and  merely  stated  that 
instructions  would  be  forwarded.  Pending  further  orders  respecting 
them,  I  have  employed  them  in  the  wash-house. — I  have  the  honor 
to  be,  sir,  your  most  obedient  servant, 

George  Clifton. 
To  Wm.  Fagan,  Esq. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  Mr.  Clifton  says,  I  received  the  letter 
back  with  this  memorandum  in  it : 

"  Mr.  Clifton — I  regret  that  my  absence  at  Chatham  prevented 
me  issuing  instructions  to  you  on  the  subject.  They  are  to  be  lo- 
cated in  the  last  lot  of  new  cells,  passed  by  me  as  fit  for  occupation 
at  my  last  visit. 

(Those  are  the  cells,  my  lord,  that  you  visited  in  D  hall;  they 
were  just  then  completed,  and  never  occupied  before. )  They  are 
to  be  worked  in  a  separate  party  at  labor  equal  to  their  ability, 
both  as  regards  their  strength  and  knowledge,  and  are  to  be  kept 
and  exercised  by  themselves  on  all  occasions,  and  full  marks  to  be 
awarded  to  them  for  their  labor,  except  in  cases  of  proved  miscon- 
duct, and  they  are  to  be  worked  by  Protestant  officers — English,  in 
whom  you  have  full  confidence — and  they  are  not  to  be  employed 
in  the  domestic  duties  of  the  prison,  except  as  regards  their  own 
cells  or  halls.  You  must,  therefore,  locate  them  on  the  works  in  a 
secure  position,  where  too  much  attention  will  not  be  drawn  to  their 
isolation,  at  the  same  time  in  such  a  position  where  the  safe  custo- 
dy or  the  officer's  honesty  will  not  be  tampered  with.  Due  pro- 
vision will  be  made  for  a  Roman  Catholic  priest's  attendance,  but 
until  one  is  nominated  there  will  be  no  objection  to  one  of  the  pris- 
oners reading  prayers  to  the  others. 

William  T.  Fagan." 

May  U    181)6. 

There  was  a  public  works  prison  in  Portsmouth  where  there 
was  a  Catholic  chaplain,  but  that  would  not  do  for  us.  Portland 
was  a  place  where  a  priest's  foot  never  polluted  the  soil,  and 
there  could  be  no  sympathetic  influence  there  to  imperil  our  safe 
keeping.   These  people  as  you  see  by  the  instructions  from  a  Cath- 


0 [Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Life.  127 

olic  director,  would  not  trust  an  Irish  Protestant  near  us.  No;  he 
must  have  the  English  brand  upon  his  Protestantism  to  make  it 
orthodox  when  the  guardianship  of  Irishmen  was  in  question.  I 
believe  this  Mr.  Fagan  got  charge  of  us  at  first,  for  the  very  reason 
that  the  Government  intended  to  treat  us  shamefully,  ai/d  if  any 
of  their  bad  work  came  out  on  them  they  would  say,  "  why,  we  have 
treated  these  prisoners  like  pet  lambs:  what  other  proof  of  our 
kind  intentions  towards  them  can  you  desire  than  that  we  have 
given  the  principal  charge  of  them  to  an  Irishman  and  a  Catholic, 
William  T.  Fagan  ?"  Mr.  Fagan  would  possibly  be  a  good  Irish- 
man and  a  good  Catholic  if  an  Irish  Catholic  Government  were 
giving  him  the  same  salary  as  he  is  getting  now.  He  is  paid  for 
working  for  the  English,  and  he  is  doing  their  work  well,  like  many 
other  pious,  patriotic  Irishmen,  which  is  all  that  I  need  say  of  him 
at  present. 

The  day  after  our  coming  to  Portland,  we  were  taken  to  the 
shoe  store  to  be  fitted  in  shoes  and  boots.  The  shoes  for  Sunday 
and  cell  wear,  and  the  boots  for  public  works.  But,  weren't  they 
boots  ?  Fully  fourteen  pounds  in  weight.  Those  that  my  youthful 
imagination  figured  in  reading  of  the  seven  leagued  ones  of  "  Jack 
the  Giant  Killer"  were  nothing  to  them.  I  put  them  on  and  the 
weight  of  them  seemed  to  fasten  me  to  the  ground.  It  was  not 
that  alone,  but  the  sight  of  the  impression  they  left  on  the  gutter 
as  you  looked  at  the  footprints  of  those  who  walked  before  you, 
struck  terror  to  your  heart.  There  was  the  felon's  brand  of  the 
"  broad  arrow  "  impressed  on  the  soil  by  every  footstep.  It  was 
not  enough  to  have  it  branded  on  several  parts  of  your  cap,  your 
shirt  and  vest,  your  stockings,  jacket  and  trowsers,  but  the  nails  in 
the  soles  of  your  boots  and  shoes  were  hammered  in  in  an  arrow 
shape,  so  that  whatever  ground  you  trod  you  left  traces  that  Gov- 
ernment property  had  traveled  over  it.  "  I'll  put  the  "  broadar 
upon  you,"  was  an  expression  in  use  long  and  many  years  ago  at 
John  Cushan's  school.  It  was  the  threat  of  a  beating  that  would 
leave  a  mark  which  could  never  be  effaced,  and  I  never  realized 
the  force  of  this  "  broadar  "  till  I  recognized  it  in  the  broad  arrow 
that  brands  everything  animate  and  inanimate  belonging  to  prison 
life.  The  handle  of  the  cat-o'-nine-tails,  that  opens  the  poor  con- 
vict's back  is  marked  with  it,  as  well  as  the  Bible  that  the  minister 
reads  to  soothe  him  when  he  is  groaning  in  his  cell  after  the 
scourging.  You  see  it  on  your  comb,  on  your  tin  pint,  on  your  tin 
knife,  and  if  it  does  not  enter  into  your  soul,  it  at  least  finds  its 
way  into  your  mouth  branded  on  the  bowl  of  your  timber  spoon. 

It  took  about  two  hours  to  fit  the  whole  of  us  in  boots  and  shoes, 
and  during  this  time  we  were  walked  about  the  yard,  and  allowed 
to  speak  to  each  other  two  by  two,  This  was  the  first  sunny 
glimpse  we  got  of  prison  life;  to  be  allowed  to  walk  about  and  hear 
each  other's  voice,  and  hear  the  news  that  O'Connor,  and  Carey  and 
Mulcahy  and  the  others,  brought, who  were  in  the  world  three  months 


126  C  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life. 

later  than  some  of  us,  were  things  to  us  the  value  of  which  a  free 
man  cannot  appreciate.  I  heard  O'Leary  say  it  would  be  grand  if 
this  kind  of  prison  life  continued.  We  did  not  know  what  dispo- 
sition was  to  be  made  of  us,  and  of  course  had  our  speculations  on 
the  matter,  but  the  question  was  soon  put  outside  the  pale  of  the  spec- 
ulative sciences.  When  we  were  all  foot-fitted,  orders  were  given 
to  halt  and  draw  up  in  double  line.  Then  the  Governor  came  in 
front,  and  to  the  cry  of  "  hats  off,"  each  of  us  uncovered.  He  made 
a  short  address,  hoping  we  would  have  good  conduct,  as  he  in- 
tended to  maintain  with  the  utmost  strictness  the  discipline  of  the 
prison — that  he  could  be  mild  or  severe  according  as  it  was  neces- 
sary— that  he  had  not  as  yet  received  instructions  regarding  the 
work  we  were  to  be  put  at,  but  until  he  received  them  he  would 
send  us  to  the  wash-house — that  the  "  amulets "  or  "  charms," 
which  were  yesterday  taken  from  us,  would  be  held  by  him  until 
further  orders,  as  he  could  not  permit  a  prisoner  to  hold  anything 
that  the  rules  did  not  allow.  I  thought  some  of  my  companions  more 
religious  than  I  would  resent  the  allusion  to  the  crosses  and  scapu- 
lars they  wore ;  but,  as  they  did  not,  I  did  not  like  to  become  the 
champion  of  the  insulted  Faith.  I  asked  the  Governor  if  I  could 
write  a  letter  to  my  family,  as  the  prison  rules  state  every  convict 
can  write  one  on  reception,  and  he  informed  me  that  was  a  privi- 
lege not  permitted  in  our  case — that  we  could  not  write  until  there 
was  a  special  permission  from  the  authorities,  and  here  again  we 
were  in  this  matter  treated  worse  than  the  English  thieves  and 
throttlers. 

Next  day  we  were  taken  to  the  wash-house,  and  the  labor  of  our 
convict  life  in  Portland  commenced.  I  did  not  like  the  smell  of 
the  place;  but  what  is  the  use  in  saying  I  didn't  like  things? 
There  were  the  stationary  tubs  full  of  dirty  suds  and  dirty  clothes, 
and  feeling  I  would  rather  have  a  hand  in  anything  than  a  hand  in 
them,  I  "mouched"  round  to  see  if  any  thing  better  would  turn  up. 
I  laid  hold  of  the  handle  of  a  pump,  and  commenced  pumping 
away  as  hard  as  I  could.  A  large  water  trough  had  to  be  filled. 
I  kept  at  my  work  for  half-an-hour,  by  which  time  the  tank 
was  full,  and  as  I  turned  about,  wiping  the  sweat  off  my  face  with 
my  check  handkerchief,  I  saw  I  had  gained  my  point.  All 
the  stationary  tubs  were  engaged,  and  I  was  detailed  to  fill  the 
tank  whenever  it  was  empty.  WThen  this  was  done  my  duty  was 
to  sort  the  linens.  The  broken  garments  were  to  be  picked  out  from 
the  unbroken  ones  and  sent  to  the  menders,  and  the  good  articles 
were  to  be  made  up  into  kits,  each  consisting  of  a  shirt,  a  hand- 
kerchief, a  pair  of  stockings,  and  a  flannel  drawers  and  a  waist- 
coat. Every  Saturday  night  every  prisoner  got  his  bundle,  and 
every  second  week  the  bundle  was  minus  the  flannels,  the  prison- 
ers getting  a  change  of  these  only  once  a  fortnight.  Occasionally, 
I  had  half-an-hour  or  so  taking  clothes  into  the  drying-room  and 
bringing  them  out;  so  that  my  labor  in  the  wash-house  was  a  lit» 


O }  Donovan  fiossa?s  Prison  Life,  129 

tie  diversified,  just  what  suited  me,  for  of  all  things  I  cannot  bear  in 
prison  life,  or  in  any  life,  it  is  to  be  kept  plodding  away  ding-dong 
from  morning  till  night  at  any  one  occupation.  The  first  week  in 
Portland  I  made  myself  a  variety  of  employments,  but  I  had  not 
such  a  good  chance  afterwards,  while  in  Portland  or  anywhere 
else. 

Sunday  came,  the  bells  rang  for  religious  service,  we  heard  the 
parades  and  the  trampings  to  church,  but  there  was  no  devotion 
for  us  unless  we  chose  to  be  devout  in  our  cells,  where  there  was 
no  great  temptation  to  be  otherwise  unless  we  got  into  a  bad  vein 
of  getting  discontented  with  the  condition  and  grumbled  at  the 
Fates  that  offered  such  hard  fare. 

"We  came  to  Portland  bringing  with  us  our  registers  of  "  Ro- 
man Catholic,"  and  as  there  was  no  priest  in  prison  the  Governor 
informed  us  that  one  of  ourselves  would  be  allowed  to  offici- 
ate on  Sundays  until  a  clergymen  was  appointed.  He  was  in- 
formed that  in  the  Catholic  Churcli  a  layman  could  not  do  service 
for  a  clergyman,  could  not  say  Mass,  could  not  hear  confessions, 
could  not  give  communion,  could  not  do  anything  that  a  priest 
could  do  for  a  congregation.  He  then  suggested  that  one  of  us 
might  read  prayers  or  a  chapter  of  the  Bible  in  the  hall  outside  of 
our  cells,  and  as  we  preferred  that  to  remaining  locked  up  we  con- 
sented, and  made  Denis  Mulcahy  our  chaplain.  He  knelt  at  the 
end  of  the  hall  on  a  stool,  with  his  books  on  a  table  before  him,  and 
repeated  aloud  for  us  the  morning  and  evening  prayers,  a  litany, 
and  a  chapter  of  the  Bible.  It  is  but  justice  to  say  that  in  the  latter 
devotion  he  selected  those  parts  of  the  Scripture  which  harmonized 
best  with  our  positions.  It  was  pleasing  to  me  to  hear  him  read 
from  the  Holy  Book  denunciations  of  tyrants  and  oppressors,  per- 
jnrers  and  liars,  and  sympathy  for  their  victims,  with  curses  and 
punishments  for  liars  and  perjurers,  and  blessings  for  all  who  suf- 
ferred  pesecution  for  justice  sake. 

Jt  was  the  most  treasonable  preaching  ever  I  heard,  and  we  had 
it  Sunday  after  Sunday  for  eight  weeks  till  the  priest  came,  a  Rev. 
Mr.  Poole,  Englishman,  but  priested  in  Ireland,  at  All  Hollow's 
College,  Dublin,  and  I  wish  the  college  joy  of  him  for  anything  of 
Irish  life  they  infused  into  him. 

As  I  am  speaking  of  Sunday,  I  may  as  welJ  give  an  account  of 
how  we  spent  that  day  in  Portland.  The  evening  previous  we  had 
to  make  preparations  for  the  proper  observance  of  the  Sabbath. 
We  stopped  work  and  came  into  our  cells  an  hour  and  a-half  earlier 
than  usual.  Our  first  preparation  was  in  the  bath  house,  where  we 
got  rid  of  as  much  as  we  could  of  the  soil  and  moil  of  our  week's 
work.  Back  in  our  cells  two  of  us  were  detailed  as  "  orderlies," 
and  the  duties  belonging  to  an  orderly's  office  were  to  take  the 
sack  full  of  kits  and  lay  one  kit  down  at  every  cell  door,  to  take  the 
empty  sack  and  go  round  again  to  take  the  soiled  linen,  the  prison- 
er when  giving  back  every  article  opening  it  out,  turning  it  back  and 


130  0^  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

front  to  show  there  was  no  unnecessary  tear  in  it ;  to  take  the  oil 
and  the  oil-brush,  the  blacking  and  the  blacking-brushes  to  every 
cell-door,  to  sweep  the  hall,  and  last,  though  not  least,  to  go  about 
collecting  the  slops. 

With  the  oil  and  the  oil-brush  the  convict  smeared  his  large 
seven-leagued  boots,  and  there  is  a  special  watch  kept  on  him 
while  doing  this,  for  many  hungry  men  have  been  known  to  drink 
this  oil.  With  the  blacking  and  the  blacking-brush  the  shoes  are 
polished,  and  polished  brightly  too,  for  if  the  "  shine"  is  not  on  at 
parade  in  the  morning  it  is  a  black  mark  for  the  convict  and  for  the 
officer  who  has  charge  of  the  squad.     Often  have  I  been  obliged  to 

fo  a  second  time  over  my  shoes  in  order  to  have  them  pronounced 
t  for  inspection.  It  is  true  I  often  tried  to  get  off  with  giving 
them  a  "  Scotch  lick,"  for  cleaning  shoes  in  a  narrow  cell  with 
the  door  locked  and  very  bad  ventilation  became  odious  to  me. 
Taking  the  dried  gutter  off  them,  putting  on  the  blacking,  and  then 
working  up  the  "  shine,"  made  the  air  redolent  with  blacking  and 
Portland  stone,  and  so  much  did  it  become  impregnated  with 
particles  of  these,  that  I  could  feel  them  cracking  between  my 
teeth.  While  oiling  the  boots  the  door  was  left  open,  and  you  had 
to  do  the  work  standing  in  the  doorway,  facing  outwards.  If  you 
got  the  oil  inside  your  door  you  might  drink  it,  but  there  was  no  fear 
of  your  drinking  the  blacking.  When  you  got  your  boots  done  you 
shut  the  door;  and,  by-and-bye,  the  orderlies  came  and  put  the  shoe 
brushes  and  blacking  under  the  door.  When  you  had  used  them 
you  returned  them  in  the  same  manner. 

The  usual  time  for  rising  is  five  o'clock,  but  on  Sunday  the 
bell  rang  at  six  and  when  another  rawg  at  a  quarter  past  six 
you  were  to  be  up  and  dressed.  Two  being  detailed  as  orderlies,  the 
slops  are  collected  by  these  commissioned  gentlemen  going  round 
from  cell  to  cell  with  the  bucket.  "  Doors  closed,"  and  at  that 
word  of  command  orderlies  and  all  others  are  shut  in.  In  a  half-an- 
hour  breakfast  comes,  and  the  orderlies  are  out  again.  Each  prison- 
er  put  out  his  pint  and  plate  the  last  time  his  door  was  open;  and 
now  the  vessels  are  there  waiting  for  ten  ounces  of  bread  and  three 
quarters  of  a  pint  of  cocoa — the  bread  often  sour  and  the  cocoa  often 
sickening.  One  orderly  holds  the  cocoa-can,  the  other  holds  the 
pint  and  plate,  and  the  officer  measures  out  the  stuff.  Then  the 
orderlies  lay  hold  of  the  bread-basket,  and  the  officer  Jays  hold  of 
'the  loaves,  placing  one  at  every  door.  If  a  prisoner  had  the  distri- 
bution of  these  loaves  it  would  be  his  fortune  while  in  office.  He 
would  be  the  prince  of  the  ward.  Tweed,  in  the  Seventh  Ward  of 
New  York,  when  he  was  in  his  glory,  would  be  nothing  to  him. 
He  might  put  a  man  on  the  "  pipes  "  or  put  a  man  on  the  "  Boule- 
vard," who  would  be  his  henchman  on  election  day.  But  what  was 
he  to  the  man  who  had  it  in  his  power  to  make  choice  of  one  or 
two  hungry  men,  to  whom  he  would  give  crusty  loaves  or  loaves 
carrying  half  an  ounce  more  than  other  loaves,  where  all  the  men 
of  the  ward  were  starving? 


(J Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life.  131 

Such  abuses  crept  into  English  prison  life  in  the  imperfect  stage 
of  its  discipline ;  but  now  that  is  all  changed.  No  prisoner  can 
give  out  bread  or  measure  drink ;  everything  must  be  distributed 
impartially  by  an  impartial  officer,  and  there  are  no  more  quarrels 
amongst  convicts  on  the  grounds  of  such  a  one  giving  the  other  the 
worst  loaf  in  the  basket.  Our  breakfasts  taken  on  Sunday  morning, 
we  are  ordered  to  the  parade.  Before  we  got  the  priest  we  all 
stood  at  our  door  with  our  caps  off.  The  Governor  passed  by,  look- 
ing at  each  of  us  in  turn.  It  was  a  stare  from  head  to  foot  to  see  if 
our  scalps  were  bare  enough  and  our  boots  bright  enough.  After 
the  chaplain  came,  we  were  marshalled  at  a  respectful  distance 
from  another  gang  of  English  convicts.  As  the  Governor  appeared, 
to  the  order  of  "  Rear  rank,  two  paces  backward,"  a  pathway  was 
made  between  our  lines,  through  which  pathway  he  sometimes 
passed,  and  other  times  he  passed  in  front.  In  sleet  or  in  sun  our 
caps  had  to  be  kept  off  during  this  inspection.  One  day  the  Dep- 
uty-Governor, Major  Hickey,  was  the  parade  master.  He  had 
passed  one  party,  and  as  he  was  on  the  way  to  the  next  gang,  I,  at 
the  right  of  the  line,  seeing  he  had  passed  me,  put  on  my  cap.  He 
turned  and  asked  why  I  did  that  without  orders,  telling  me 
to  uncover  again,  and  I  obediently  did  so ;  but  I  was  watching 
after  that  to  give  the  fellow  a  hit.  I  did  so  in  a  letter,  "  a  petition," 
I  wrote  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  he  was  very  gentlemanly  to 
me  afterwards.  I  never  got  any  peace  from  these  people  till  I 
treated  them  with  contempt,  and  I  never  did  this  till  I  saw  that 
nothing  reasonable  would  satisfy  them,  and  that  the  more  I  showed 
an  obedient  disposition  the  more  disposed  they  showed  themselves 
to  annoy  me. 

The  inspection  being  over,  we  were  led  to  chapel — led  and 
driven — for  one  officer  went  before  us  and  another  came  behind. 
We  were  in  our  cells  again  about  half-past  eleven,  and  at  twelve 
dinner  was  distributed.  This  was  12  oz.  of  bread,  4  oz.  of  cheese, 
and  a  pint  of  water;  and  the  orderlies,  having  done  their  duty, 
were  locked  in  like  the  rest  of  us.  One  officer  remained  on  watch. 
He  walked  about  in  slippers,  and  sometimes,  if  your  eye  was  fixed 
on  the  spy-hole,  you  could  see  the  outside  blinker  of  it  "slowly  mov- 
ing aside,  and  then  an  eye  glaring  in  at  you.  'Twas  an  ugly  sight, 
as  ugly  a  one  as  remains  to  me  of  my  prison  remembrance.  Talk 
what  you  will  of  beautiful  eyes,  but  the  eyes  of  an  angel  would  look 
repulsive  to  me  in  such  a  position.  I  don't  know  was  it  an  innate 
detestation  of  spying  that  affected  me  so  uncomfortably  at  this 
spectacle ;  but  the  eye  of  a  serpent  or  of  a  lion  fixed  on  me  within 
my  cell  would  not,  I  think,  make  me  feel  worse  than  that  eye  fixed 
on  me  from  without.  To  me  it  was  the  all-seeing  eye ;  but  I  was 
certain  that  for  me  also  it  had  in  it  more  of  the  devil  than  the  Di- 
vine. 

When  the  officers  came  back  from  dinner  we  were  taken  to  the 
chapel  for  evening  prayers,  and  after  chapel  we  were  taken  to  exer- 


132  O*  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

cise,  as  we  had  two  hours  in  the  open  air  every  Sunday.  Cells  after 
exercise,  and  supper  at  five  o'clock,  consisting  of  six  ounces  of  bread 
and  a  pint  of  gruel,  supposed  to  have  in  it  two  ounces  of  oatmeal. 
You  remain  in,  your  cell  till  half-past  seven  o'clock,  the  hour  for 
preparing  to  retire,  and  in  this  space  of  seven  feet  by  three  and 
a-half  you  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  amuse  yourself  any  way  you  like, 
save  and  except  that  you  are  not  to  make  any  noise,  that  you  are 
not  to  walk  about,  and  that  you  are  not  to  take  your  hammock  off 
your  shelf,  nor  to  sling  it  to  stretch  upon.  Walking  about  my  cell 
during  dinner  hour  a  rap  came  to  my  door.  I  saw  the  eye  at  the 
spy-hole  and  heard  a  voice  cry,  "  What  are  you  dancing  there  for?" 
"  I'm  not  dancing,  I'm  only  walking  to  keep  my  blood  in  circula- 
tion." "You  are  making  a  noise  in  your  cell,  and  you  can't  do 
that ;  you'll  have  to  keep  quiet."  I  sat  down  on  my  hard  stool, 
fully  persuaded  it  was  a  hard  place  to  live  in. 

Another  of  my  Sunday  experiences  is  that  I  was  located  on  the 
side  of  the  hall  where  all  the  cells  are  dark.  Here  there  is  no 
chance  of  reading,  and  after  some  meditation  on  my  situation,  I  took 
down  my  hammock  and  stretched  on  it.  The  eye  immediately 
detected  me,  and  ordered  me  to  replace  the  hammock.  I  said  that 
in  a  dark  cell  where  I  could  not  read  or  walk  I  might  reasonably  be 
allowed  to  stretch,  and  next  day  I  was  sentenced  to  twenty-four 
hours'  bread  and  water  for  my  insolence  and  insubordination. 

At  half-past  seven  on  Sunday  evenings  the  orderlies  are  out,  the 
doors  are  opened  one  by  one,  and  the  slops  are  collected.  Shut  in 
again,  another  bell  rings  at  a  quarter  to  eight,  up  to  which  time  you 
are  not  to  touch  your  bed.  Then  you  set  to  work  to  fix  your  ham- 
mock, undress  yourself,  and  be  in  bed  when  the  eight  o'clock  bell 
rings,  and  all  lights  are  extinguished  except  those  in  the  body  of  the 
hall. 

So  much  for  a  Sunday.  And  now  as  I  have  spoken  of  the  diet- 
ary of  one  day  here,  I  may  as  well  give  the  scale  for  all  the  days  of 
the  week  in  Portland.  I  have  it  before  me  in  the  report  of  the 
Commissioners  of  Inquiry,  and  I  may  say  it  looks  very  nice  and  spicy 
in  print ;  but  were  you  to  see  it  in  reality  and  feed  upon  it  for  any 
time,  you  would  think  it  "  flavored  and  thickened  "  with  something 
more  than  "  as  above." 

PORTLAND,  PORTSMOUTH,  DARTMOOR,  PARKHTTRST,  AND  WORKING  DIET- 
ARIES FOR  CONVICTS  AT  PUBLIC  WORKS HARD  LABOR. 

BREAKFAST. 

Three-quarters  pint  cocoa,  containing  half  oz.  cocoa,  two  oz.  milk, 
half  oz.  molasses  ;  (bread  see  below.) 

DINNER. 

Sunday — Four  oz.  cheese,  bread. 

Monday  and  Saturday — Five  oz.  of  beef  without  bone,  and  after 
being  cooked  with  its  own  liquor,  flavored  with  half  oz.  onions,  and 
thickened  with  ^th  oz.  flour  and  any  bread  and  potatoes  left  on  the 


CP  Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life. 

^evious  day,  and  three-quarters  oz.  pepper  per  cent,  one  lb.  potatoes ; 
bread. 

Tuesday  and  Friday — One  pint  soup,  containing  eight  oz.  shins 
of  beef,  one  oz.  pearl  barley,  two  oz.  fresh  vegetables,  one  oz.  onions, 
one  lb.  potatoes  ;  bread. 

Wednesday — Five  oz.  mutton  without  bone,  and  after  being 
cooked  with  its  own  liquor,  flavored  and  thickened  as  above,  one  lb. 
potatoes ;  bread. 

Thursday — One  lb  suet  pudding,  containing  one  and  a  half  oz. 
suet,  eight  oz.  flour,  six  and  a  half  oz.  water ;  one  lb.  potatoes ; 
bread. 

SUPPER. 

Ona  pint  of  gruel,  containing  two  oz.  oatmeal,  half  oz.  molasses  or 
salt. 

Bread  per  week,  168  oz.  each — week  day,  23  oz.  each;  Sunday, 
30  oz. 


CHAPTER  X. 


REMOVED     FROM     THE    WASH-HOUSE    AND    SENT    TO     THE    QUARRIES—* 

NOBBLING 1    BECOME    A    QUARRTMAN "REPORTED"    AND    "  DE* 

GRADED  " TRIED  AND  CONDEMNED  WITHOUT  WITNESSES PRIVY 

CLEANING — RAIN  DOWN   IN  OUR  CELLS EARNING    MARKS EIGH- 
TEEN  MONTHS    IN    PRISON    AFTER    DEATH CANNOT    SPEAK    HIGH 

OR  LOW "DO  YOU  DEFY  THE  PRISON  AUTHORITIES" PAT  BARRY'S 

JUGGLERY    AND    PUNISHMENT DONALD     BANE,    THE    SCOTCHMAN, 

AND  HIS  RAZOR "  CANNOT  YOU  FELLOWS  SHAVE  EACH  OTHER  " — ■ 

MICHAEL    O'REGAN    JOKED    AND    CHARLES    KICKHAM     SHOVED    BY 

GUNNING WILLIAM  ROANTREE'S  ILLNESS MARTIN  HANLY  CAREY 

BREAKS  A  FINGER,  AND  THE  DOCTOR  MAKES  HIM  WORK  WITH  ONE 

HAND 1  TRY  TO  BE  AS  GOOD  AS  AN  ENGLISH  GENTLEMAN  CCNVICT 

AND  TEAR  MY  CLOTHES "  MUTINY  " fD  "  SUCK  ANOTHER  MAN'S 

BLOOD  " MICHAEL  o'REGAN  AND  THE  PRISON  PRIESTS. 

After  a  week  an  order  came  to  take  us  away  from  the  wash- 
house.  We  were  to  be  sent  to  work  in  the  quarries;  and  in 
obedience  to  the  mandates  of  Mr.  Fagan — "You  must  therefore 
locate  them  on  the  works  in  a  secure  position,  where  too  much 
attention  will  not  be  drawn  by  their  isolation,"  we  were  placed  in 
a  little  valley  in  view  of  the  Governor's  office.  He  had  his  spy- 
glass on  us  whenever  it  pleased  him,  and  all  diligence  was  shown  in 
the  carrying  out  of  the  instruction  to  place  the  cherished  convicts 
"  in  such  a  position  where  their  safe  custody  or  the  officers'  honesty 
will  not  be  tampered  with."  Mr.  Clifton,  in  his  evidence  before 
the  Commissioners,  says  (page  67): — "And  as  soon  as  these  in- 
structions came  down,  they  were  removed  to  a  spot  on  the  public 
works  which  you  can  see  from  the  windows."  Oh  !  weren't  these 
people  careful  of  us !  and  frightened  lest  some  invisible  power 
would  run  away  with  us  !  "  They  are  to  be  worked  by  Protestant 
officers,  English,  in  whom  you  have  the  fullest  confidence,"  and  yet 
the  "  officers'  honesty  "  was  to  be  watched. 

The  little  valley  was  within  about  300  yards  of  the  main  prison  ; 
it  opened  towards  the  building,  which  was  the  only  view  we  had, 
as  on  all  other  sides  it  was  surrounded  by  high  grounds,  on  which 
were  constructed  railroads  and  tramways.  We  dare  not  ascend 
any  of  these  and  take  a  view  of  the  sea,  or  the  island,  or  the  other 
prisoners  working  beyond.  We  had,  however,  an  opportunity  of 
occasionally  seeing  some  of  those  as  they  were  taken  to  hospital  or 


(7 Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life.  135 

to  the  dead-house  on  stretchers,  after  being  maimed  or  killed  or 
having   committed    suicide  on  the  works.     The  first  day  in   the 
quarries  we   occupied    ourselves  in  erecting  blocks   on  which  we 
were  to  dress  stones.     The  blocks  were  to  be  three  yards  part,  and 
I  found  Luby,  O'Leary,  and  myself  on  the  angles  of  a  triangle. 
As  I  turned  myself  round  I  found  myself  at  the  apex  of  another 
triangle,  having  Denis  Dowling  Mulcahy  and  James  O'Connor  for 
its  base,  and  so  on  with  each  of  the  others.     It  was  at  this  time 
about  the  middle  of  May,  and  we  were  obliged  to  work  with  our 
jackets  off.     Some  cold  days  came,  and  the  sea  wind  blowing  in, 
seemed   to  cut  through  me;    yet  the  prison  regulations  and  dis- 
cipline made  it  summer  season,  and  we  had  to  work  as  all  others 
worked.     Mr.  Clifton  says,  "  I  can  produce  the  Secretary  of  State's 
reply,  in  which  they  were  to  be  treated  as  other  convicts."     Our 
first  work  was  making  "  nobblers,"  a  nobbier  being  a  stone  with 
five  sides  dressed  and  one  rough  side.     When  the  workman  had 
his  rough  stone  filed  down  into  a  nobbier  he  laid  it  by  his  block, 
called  his  companion,  and  both  taking  the  handbarrow,  went  to 
the  quarry  for  another  rough  stone.     On  one  of  these  trips  I  laid 
hold  of  a  sledge,  and  to  warm  myself  commenced  sledging  away 
at  a  large  rock,  while  my  mate  was  •'  keebling,"  that  is,  knocking 
the  large  rough  corners  off  an  embryo  nobbier.     "  I  think,  Rossa," 
said   Gunning,  the  officer,  "  you'd  make  a  good  quarryman,  and 
you'd  better  stay  here  with  Brophy."     "  All  right,  governor,"  said 
I,  "  anything  you  like  ;"  for  I  like  variety,  and  as  every  one  of  the 
laborers  had  to  call  a  few  times  a  day  to  the  quarry,  I  had  an  op- 
portunity of  having  a  word  with  each  in  turn.     Hugh  Brophy  and 
myself  were  getting  on  splendidly  till  the  first  of  my  misfortunes 
came   on  me  in  the  shape  of  a  "  Report,"  and  come  it  did  like  a 
thunderclap,  without  the  preliminary  of  a  flash  of  lightning.     We 
got  up  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  had  our  breakfast  at  half-past 
five,  and  were  in  the  quarries  at  six.     'Twas  a  long,  wea**y  day,  and 
I  always  had  a  splendid  appetite  for  my  meals.     When  you  come 
into  dinner  you  enter  your  cell,  shut  the  door,  and  the  orderlies  of 
the  day  are  called  out,  and  they  lay  at  the  door  a  canteen  contain- 
ing the  dinner.     The  orderlies  are  then  sent  in,  and  the  warder 
opens  door  after  door,  each  prisoner  taking  in  his  dinner,  and  the 
officer    taking  care  not  to  open  one  door  till  the  other  is   shut. 
Opening  my    door  this  day  in    question,  and  stooping  down  to 
lay  hold  of  the  tin,  he  roared  out,  "  Leave  that  there;  stand  out- 
side here,  and  turn  your  face  to  the  wall."     I  obeyed.     Michael 
Moore's  cell  was  next  to  mine,  and  opening  his  door,  Mike,  as  hun- 
gry as  myself,  bowed  towards  the  canteen,  and  Gunning  ordered 
him    to    leave   it  there,   and   turn   his    face  to  the   wall.      If  we 
hadn't   food   for  the   stomach  we   had    at   least   food   for   specu- 
lation.    As    all    the    dinners   were    taken    in,  and  all  the    doors 
locked,  the  officer  coming  towards  me,  cried,  "  About  face,  two 
paces  forward,  march,"  and  we  obeying,  he  followed  behind,  giving 


136  & Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

all  the  orders  that  were  necessary  to  send  us  around  corners  and 
through  halls  till  he  had  each  of  us  locked  in  a  darkened 
cell.  The  officer  in  charge  of  this  dark  abode  came  to  me 
an<l  demanded  my  boots,  my  braces,  my  necktie,  my  handkerchief, 
and  my  cap,  taking  them  away,  locking  my  door,  and  leaving  me 
asking  myself  what  the  deuce  can  all  this  mean  ?  But  I  wasn't  left 
long  in  doubt ;  it  was  a  "  Report;"  my  door  was  opened,  and  I  heard 
the  order  "  Forward."  "  My  boots,  governor,"  I  said ;  '; Nevermind 
your  boots,"  said  he,  "forward  march,"  and  on  I  went  through  the 
nagged  hall  in  my  stocking  yamps,  and  my  two  hands  having  hold 
of  my  trousers  to  keep  it  from  tripping  me.  "  Halt,  right  face, 
forward."  I  entered  by  a  door  that  another  officer  opened,  and 
found  myself  before  the  judgment  seat  of  the  Governor,  with  a  strong 
iron  railing  between  him  and  me,  and  two  officers  at  each  side  of  it. 
The  judge  reads  from  a  large  book  before  him — "Treason-felony 
convict,  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  No.  34,  you  are  charged  with 
speaking  to  the  prisoner  in  the  cell  convenient  to  you."  "When,  Gov- 
ernor?" "Yesterday  evening,  at  seven  o'clock."  "Who  is  to  prove 
the  charge,  Governor?  "  "  Do  you  deny  the  charge  ?"  "  I  only  ask 
who  is  to  prove  it:  You  certainly  are  not  going  to  convict  a  man  in 
England  without  some  one  giving  evidence."  Governor,  addressing 
one  of  the  offieers,  "Where  is  the  patrol?"  Officer,  putting  his 
hand  to  his  head,  "He  is  off  duty  to-day,  sir."  Governor,  address- 
ing me,  "  The  patrol  who  was  on  duty  outside  your  window  yester- 
day evening  heard  you.  Do  you  deny  the  charge?"  "I  admit 
or  deny  nothing." 

Governor — "  As  this  is  your  first  offence,  I  will  not  punish  you 
severely,  but  as  the  discipline  of  the  prison  must  not  be  despised,  I 
order  you  to  be  degraded,  and  I  fine  you  84  marks ;  you  must  not 
speak  or  make  any  noise  in  your  cell  while  in  this  prison."  "  But 
can  I  speak  at  all  ?"  "  Yes ;  you  can  speak  to  your  companions 
while  at  labor,  but  you  must  speak  so  loud  that  the  officer  in  charge 
of  you  can  hear  you,  lest  you  should  be  planning  anything."  I 
bowed  my  acknowledgements,  and  to  the  orders  of  "  about  face," 
"  forward,"  "  left  face,"  "forward,"  "  halt;"  "left  face,"  "forward," 
I  kept  moving  and  entered  my  dark  cell  again.  The  door  was 
locked, — by-and-by  it  was  opened  and  I  was  handed  my  dinner,  but 
I  had  to  eat  it  without  knife,  or  plate,  or  table,  as  this  was  one  of 
the  punishment  cells  in  the  punishment  ward  of  the  prison. 

The  bell  rang  at  one  o'clock,  the  door  was  opened,  I  was  told  to 
dress  and  get  ready  for  labor.  I  took  my  boots  and  in  them  found 
my  handkerchief,  stock,  cap  and  braces.  Moore  and  myself  were 
being  marched  off  when  we  heard  the  cry  of  "  stop,"  "  stop ;"  the 
officer  in  charge  of  us  cried  "  halt,"  and  the  other  on  coming  up 
handed  each  of  us  a  jacket,  saying,  "here,  give  me  the  jackets  you 
have  on  and  wear  these  till  evening,"  and,  having  made  the  change, 
we  went  out  and  fell  in  with  the  rest  of  the  party  as  they  were  going 
to  work  after  dinner. 


O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  137 

I  had  one  pleasant  piece  of  news  to  communicate  when  we  ar- 
rived in  the  "  pleasant  valley,"  and  that  was  what  the  Governor  told 
me,  that  we  could  speak  while  at  work,  but  loud  enough  for  the  offi- 
cers to  hear  us,  lest  we  should  be  planning  anything.  We  indulged 
in  the  privilege  much  to  the  mortification  of  the  officers  in  charge  of 
us,  for  a  great  part  of  their  recreation  consisted  in  checking  any  of 
us  who  seemed  inclined  to  carry  on  a  conversation  with  his  neigh- 
bor, but  now  they  were  checked  themselves,  and  they  appeared  to 
regard  it  as  a  curtailment  of  their  authority.  Men  like  to  have 
power  over  other  men.  We  are  all  tyrants  and  need  to  be  held  in 
check  by  some  power  outside  of  our  own  wills.  It  was  a  great 
thing  for  those  ignorant  jailers  to  bring  men  like  us  to  account 
every  hour  of  the  day,  to  shut  our  mouths  or  allow  our  tongues  to 
wag  at  their  will.  As  we  were  in  the  height  of  our  glee  at  this 
change  in  our  affairs,  Gunning  cried  out,  "  See,  see,  two  of  yous  men 
will  have  to  come  and  clean  out  the  privy  here,"  and  in  obedience 
to  his  command  the  two  who  were  first  on  his  list  went  at  the  work. 
Once  every  three  weeks  this  unpleasant  duty  was  performed  by  two 
of  us.  Gunning,  speaking  to  me  one  day,  told  me  I  was  one  of  the 
two  who  should  empty  the  closet  next  Monday,  and  I  said  I  would 
see  something  about  it  first.  When  I  went  to  the  cell  that  evening 
I  called  the  officer  and  told  him  to  take  down  my  name  to  see  the 
Governor  next  day,  and  next  day  at  dinner  hour  I  was  taken  before 
him.  "  Governor."  I  said,  "the  officer  in  charge  of  us  told  me  yes- 
terday that  I  should  clean  a  privy  next  Monday  and  I  desire  to 
know  from  you  if  that  is  work  expected  from  me  ?"  His  reply 
was  "  Certainly,  yes,"  to  which  I  answered,  "  All  right,  Governor," 
and  turned  away.  VVhen  I  went  out  Gunning  said,  "  You  went  to 
the  Governor  to  know  if  you  would  be  made  to  clean  the  closet,  but 
now  instead  of  having  two  of  you  to  clean  it  once  every  three  weeks, 
I  will  make  yous  clean  it  every  Monday  morning,"  to  which  I 
answered,  "  All  right,  Governor."  But  at  the  same  time  I  was 
nursing  a  determination  to  refuse  point  plank  to  do  such  work  when 
Monday  morning  came.  I  told  my  companions  I  would  refuse,  and 
some  of  them  remonstrated  with  me.  Mr.  Luby  observed  that  obe- 
dience and  subordination  were  more  than  anything  else  in  accord 
with  the  dignity  of  the  cause  of  our  imprisonment,  and  in  this  I 
agreed  with  him.  John  Mitchell  submitted  to  the  prison  discipline, 
he  said,  and  did  his  work  like  any  other  convict,  but  I  could  never 
realize  to  my  mind  John  Mitchell's  shoveling  the  dung  out  of  a 
privy,  and  I  know  I  never  did  it  myself  without  wishing  that  the 
Prime  'Minister  of  England  and  the  Secretary  of  State  were  within 
the  reach  of  my  shovel.  There  was  no  satisfaction  to  me  in  hurling 
my  indignation  at  an  humble  underling  of  a  warder.  John 
O'Leary's  argument  at  length  persuaded  me  to  go  back  of  my  de- 
termination, and  it  harmonized  most  with  my  own  feelings.  It 
was,  that  some  four  or  six  of  our  party  had  cleaned  the  closet  before 
me,  and  my  refusing  to  do  it  would  look  as  a  reflection  on  their 
spirit  or  a  presumption  of  my  own  superiority. 


138  (? Donovan  Eossa's  Prison  Life. 

I  wished  I  had  been  away  from  the  party,  and  in  a  position 
where  I  could  pursue  the  bent  of  my  own  inclinations  without  the 
risk  of  hurting  the  feelings  of  any  one  I  cared  about,  but  I  had  to 
take  the  world  as  it  came,  and  when  Monday  came  had  to  clean  the 
privy.  I  did  it,  cursing  under  my  teeth,  and  two  years  afterwards 
the  memory  of  this  indignity  came  on  strongly,  with  that  of  others, 
to  urge  me  to  commit  the  very  undignified  act  of  throwing  the 
water  from  my  slop-pail  through  the  bars  of  my  prison  chamber 
right  into  the  face  of  the  Governor  of  Chatham  Prison  when  he 
stood  outside  the  door  calling  on  me  to  give  him  a  salute,  at  the 
very  same  time  that  he  was  starving  me  on  bread  and  water. 

If  corroboration  be  needed  of  our  being  obliged  to  do  this  dirty 
work  it  is  to  be  found  in  page  58  of  the  report  of  the  Commission- 
ers of  Inquiry.  Mr.  Clifton,  the  Governor  of  Portland  Prison,  is 
under  examination,  and  here  are  a  few  questions  and  answers  as 
given  in  the  book: 

"  You  tell  off  a  certain  number  of  prisoners  as  orderlies  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  What  have  they  to  do  ?  " 

"  Clean  the  privies ;  carry  water  inside  and  put  it  at  the  prisoners' 
doors;  clean  and  wash  the  steps  leading  from  the  landings." 

"  Are  they  expected  to  clean  the  privies  ?  " 

"  They  take  it  by  turns  and  wash  them  out." 

"  How  are  the  privies  in  the  works  outside  cleaned  ?  " 

"  Once  a  week  two  prisoners  belonging  to  the  party  empty  them 
at  a  spot  where  the  manure  is  subsequently  carted  by  a  contractor." 

So  much  for  this  part  of  the  degradation.  Now  let  me  return  to 
that  degradation  which  was  ordered  for  Michael  Moore  and  me  for 
speaking  in  our  cells. 

When  we  returned  from  labor  that  evening  our  jackets  were  re- 
turned to  us,  and  we  found  that  the  regular  badges  had  been  torn 
off  the  sleeves  and  others  put  on,  which  branded  us  as  refractory. 
I  forget  now  what  was  the  degrading  color  of  the  badge,  but  I 
know  that  Mike's  and  mine  were  different  from  all  the  others.  We 
were  mangy  sheep,  and  we  should  lead  three  months  of  the  most 
regular  life  before  we  could  get  rid  of  our  scabs.  The  partitions 
between  our  cells  were  made  of  corrugated  iron,  and  in  the  one 
between  Michael  Moore  and  me  there  was  a  slit  alongside  the  wall 
through  which  you  might  pass  a  silver  shilling.  We  occasionally  had 
a  whisper  through  this,  and  the  spy  outside  our  window  must  have 
heard  us  through  the  ventilator  on  the  occasion  for  which  we  were 
degraded  and  fined  eighty  four  marks  each,  which  is  equivalent  to 
fourteen  days'  imprisonment,  and  I  will  explain  how.  When  a  con- 
vict is  sentenced  to  a  term  of  imprisonment,  every  day  of  the  term 
is  put  down  against  him  as  six  marks.  He  is  then  told  that  if  he  is 
obedient  and  works  hard  he  can  earn  eight  marks  a  day.  Thus,  if 
his  term  of  imprisonment  be  twenty  days,  he  can  work  out  his  120 
marks  in  fifteen  days.     But  he  may  be  working  fourteen  days,  and 


CP Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Life.  139 

earning  eight  marks  a  day,  and  his  officer  may  report  him  for  look- 
ing at  another  prisoner,  or  for  some  imaginary  offence,  when  he  is 
fined  as  many  marks  as  will  put  him  back  to  his  original  sentence. 
I  had  a  few  words  with  the  Governor  of  Portland  one  day  about 
these  same  marks.  I  was  then  about  ten  months  under  his  guardian- 
ship, and  being  before  him  for  punishment,  he  wound  up  some- 
what as  follows : 

"  I  have  been  looking  over  your  many  punishments  and  your  very 
bad  character  on  the  books,  and  with  the  number  of  days  on  bread 
and  water,  I  see  you  have  been  fined  three  thousand  two  hundied 
and  eighty-five  marks,  which  is  adding  eighteen  months  to  your 
imprisonment." 

"  What,  Governor,"  cried  I,  "  do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me  that 
you  are  going  to  keep  me  a  year  and  a  half  in  prison  without  bury- 
ing me  after  I'm  dead  ?  " 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  "  (addressing  the  officers.)  Putting  their 
hands  to  their  heads,  they  all  answered,  "  Don't  know,  sir." 

"  I  mean  that  I  am  transported  for  life,  and  how  can  eighteen 
months  he  added  to  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  don't  care  about  earning  your  remission,  if  you 
don't  care  about  your  wife  and  your  children,  I  can't  help  you. 
Take  him  away."  And  away  I  was  taken  to  the  abode  of  "  bread 
and  water."  A  fortnight  after  we  got  permission  to  speak,  and  to 
speak  loud,  the  Governor  stood  over  us  on  the  railroad  track,  and, 
in  our  presence,  brought  the  officers  to  account  for  permitting  us  to 
talk  so  high,  and  then  the  annoyance  commenced  in  earnest.  If  we 
talked  low  we  subjected  ourselves  to  reproof  and  threatened  report, 
and  so  worried  was  I  at  length  that  on  Gunning  checking  me  one 
day  I  said  to  him :  "  See,  officer,  I  have  had  warning,  and  threats, 
and  admonitions  enough  from  you.  I  know  the  rules  and  regula- 
tions, you  know  them  too,  and  when  you  see  me  infringe  them  just 
report  me  to  the  Governor,  let  him  punish  me,  but  let  you  keep 
your  tongue  off  me."  Next  day  I  was  reported,  and  got  my  first 
dose  of  twenty-four  hours'  "  bread  and  water,"  that  is  eight  ounces 
of  bread  at  half-past  five  in  the  morning,  with  a  pint  of  water ;  and 
eight  ounces  at  half-past  five  in  the  evening,  with  the  pint  of  water. 
No  dinner,  no  bed  at  night,  no  open-air  exercise  by  day,  no  stool  or 
other  seat  in  your  cell ;  all  solitary  confinement,  and  this  is  what,  in 
prison  parlance,  is  called  "  bread  and  water." 

The  first  step  on  the  road  to  misfortune,  like  the  first  in  sin,  is 
seldom  retraced,  and  my  first  dose  on  "bread  and  water"  soon 
brought  others  after  it.  "  We'll  tame  you  as  we  tame  lions  in  Eng- 
land," is  a  common  expression  of  jailers  to  their  sulky  captives. 
When  I  saw  this  starvation  process  resorted  to  in  my  case,  my 
whole  nature  arose  in  arms,  and  I  felt  that  even  against  prison  gov- 
ernment I  could  be  a  rebel  too.  It  was  measuring  me  by  the  same 
rule  as  that  by  which  they  measured  their  thieves  and  pickpockets ; 
and  though  we  were  wearing  the  same  jackets,  I  had  inside  of  mine 


140  O'Donovxn  Rosses  Prison  Life. 

some  kind  of  Irish  pride  which  made  me  wi^h  to  have  the  authorities 
learn  they  were  mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  application  of  this 
rule  to  Irish  revolutionists  was  to  have  the  same  effect  upon  them 
as  upon  the  garrotters  and  Sodomites  of  England. 

Again  and   again  was  I  reported  for  speaking  too  loud  while  at 
work,   and  bread   and   water  followed  each  report,  till  at  length 
orders  came  that  we  were  not  to  speak  high  or  low.     Warder  Gun- 
ning having  read  these  orders  to  us  one  morning  in  the  quarry,  I 
asked  him  how  long  they  were  to  last  ?  and  he  told  me  I  must  not 
be  impertinent.     In  an  hour's  time  a  courier  from  the  prison  came 
out  to  him  and,  after  going  back,  we  were  informed  that  the  order 
issued  in  the  morning  was  relaxed  to  the  extent  that  we  were  al- 
lowed to  speak  regarding  our  work.    Every  two  men  had  hammers, 
and  keebles,  and  sledges  between  them ;  one  could  ask  the  other  for 
a  tool,  or  ask  help  in  lifting  a  stone,  or  anything  necessary  about 
the   work.     "  Governor,"  I  said,  "  can   I  say  to  my  comrade,  this 
work  is  rather  hard  ?  "  and  his  reply  was,  "  I  have  told  you  to-day 
before  that  you  must  not  be  insolent."     By-and-by  an  officer  called 
a  "  principal,"  who  wears  a  gold  band  on  his  cap,  came  the  rounds, 
and  we  saw  Gunning  summon  O'Leary  before  him,  then  Luby  was 
summoned  ;    I  came  next.     Gunning's  charge  was — "  Mr.  Warren, 
this  convict,  O'Donovan  Rossa,  has  used  gross  insolence  two  times 
to-day  before  me  ;  he  is  defying  the  rules  and  regulations  and  giv- 
ing a  bad  example  to  all  the  party." 

Rossa — "  Mr.  Gunning,  will  you  please  tell  the  Principal  what  I 
said  and  did  to  warrant  your  making  such  a  charge  ?  " 

Gunning — "  He  asked  me,  sir,  in  a  very  insulting  tone,  how  long 
would  the  order  last  that  enforced  silence,  and  he  asked  me  if  he 
could  not  say  to  another  prisoner,  that  the  work  was  hard." 

Principal  Warren — "Why,  this  is  regular  mutiny.  You  will 
have  to  give  up  your  impudence  and  insolence  to  the  officers  of  this 
prison  or  suffer  for  it." 

Rossa — "  Governor,  I  have  no  desire  to  be  insolent  or  impudent 
to  any  officer ;    the  prison  rules  do  not  allow  me  to  be  so,  nor  do 
they  allow  any  officer  to  be  insolent  or  impudent  to  me." 
Principal — "  Send  him  into  the  punishment  cells." 
Gunning — "  Here,  Mr.  Blaney,  take  Rossa  into  the  cells." 
On   I   marched  with  Warder  Blaney,  but  as  at  this  time  I  was 
stripped  to  my  shirt   I  was  called  back  to  put  on  my  jacket  and 
waistcoat,  which  were  lying  by  my  block.     I  was  dressed  and  on 
the  march  again,  when  Warren  told  me  to  come  back  and  stay  at 
my  work  till  dinner  time,  when  I  could  be  reported  after  going  in. 
Warren  went  away,  and  after  he  was  gone  I  proceeded  to  tell  what 
he  had  said  to  me  to  WTilliam  Roantree,  who  was  working  near  by. 
Gunning  approached  and  6aid: 

"  Rossa,  do  you  persist  in  defying  the  rules  and  regulations  of 
this  prison  ?  " 
\      Rossa — "  That's  an  improper  question,  Governor." 


CPDonovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  141 

Gunning — "  Answei  me,  do  you  persist  in  defying  the  prison 
rules?" 

Rossa — "  The  question  is  illegal,  and  I  won't  answer  it." 
Gunning — "  Do  you  defy  the  prison  authorities  ?  " 
Rossa — "  You  know  your  duty.      If  I  am  violating   any  rule 
report  me  to  the  Governor,  but  don't  be  trying  to  frighten  the  life 
out  of  me  by  screeching  that  way  at  me." 

I  worked  till  dinner-hour,  but  I  got  no  dinner.  I  was  reported 
for  "  showing  a  mutinous  disposition,"  and  got  my  blood  a  little 
cooled  by  getting  hard  bed  and  board  for  a  few  days.  When  I 
came  to  the  quarries  again  I  found  some  of  my  friends  had  been 
making  provision  for  me.  Patrick  Barry  had  brought  out  a  loaf  of 
bread,  and  the  difficulty  was,  how  to  have  it  passed  to  me,  and  how 
I  could  eat  it  ?  He  ran  danger  in  bringing  it  out,  and  I  would  run 
danger  in  taking  it  in ;  for,  going  out  and  coming  in,  every  one  of 
us  was  closely  searched.  At  length  Barry  and  I  found  ourselves 
together  in  the  quarry.  We  seized  an  opportunity  when  Gunning's 
eyes  were  on  some  others  of  the  party,  and,  presto !  quick  as  a 
lightning  flash  the  loaf  changed  hands.  The  next  moment  my  hand 
was  up  as  a  signal  to  go  to  the  closet,  and  the  loal  wasn't  seen 
since.  But  Pat  Barry  got  into  trouble  that  day  himself.  Blaney, 
the  sub-officer,  got  talking  to  me.  He  was  a  smart  little  fellow,  and 
was  trying  to  worry  me  into  an  admission  of  saying  something  I 
didn't  say.  I  was  explaining,  and  Barry  observing  "that's  just 
what  Rossa  said,"  Blaney  immediately  pounced  upon  him  for  in- 
terfering, reported  him  for  insolence,  and  got  him  put  on  bread  and 
water. 

The  petty  tricks  resorted  to  at  this  time  to  annoy  us  are  beyond 
description.  Gunning  would  come  into  my  cell  one  day  and  in- 
struct me  to  keep  my  spoon  resting  against  my  timber  salt-cellar  at 
about  an  angle  of  45  degrees,  and  Donald  Bane  would  come  the 
next  day  and  scold  me  for  not  having  the  spoon  laid  on  the  top  of 
the  salt-cellar.  There  was  no  use  in  my  saying,  "  Governor,  the 
other  officer  told  me  yesterday  to  keep  it  the  other  way."  "  Never 
mind  what  the  other  officer  says ;  you're  always  to  obey  the  last 
order;"  and  if  I  said  another  word  there  was  a  peremptory  order 
of  "  Silence."  This  Donald  Bane  was  a  burly  Scotchman,  about  six 
feet  two,  and  proportionately  stout.  He  spoke  as  roughly  as  he 
could,  for  the  purpose  of  enforcing  discipline,  and,  as  I  didn't  like 
his  growl,  I  thought  I'd  have  a  bit  of  fun  with  him  occasionally. 
We  were  shaved  every  Wednesday  and  Saturday  evening,  Donald 
being  the  superintendent.  In  Pentonville  the  razor  was  never  al- 
lowed into  my  own  hand,  as  the  barbering  was  always  done  by  a 
warder ;  but  here  they  were  not  so  particular.  Donald  came  about 
with  half-a-dozen  razors,  gave  one  to  the  prisoner,  who  gave  it  back 
again  when  he  had  done,  at  which  time  the  officer  would  inspect  the 
face  and  neck  to  see  if  they  were  perfectly  smooth.  It  vvas  always 
a  kind  of  torture  to  me  to  shave  under  my  chin,  and  with  the  spirit 


142  (J  Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life. 

of  human  nature,  I  thought  as  I  was  scraping  away  one  evening 
that  there  was  no  legitimate  reason  why  I  should  be  my  own  tor- 
turer. I  didn't  make  a  clean  shave  of  it,  and  giving  out  my  razor, 
Donald  said,  "Here,  let  me  look  at  you,  hold  up  your  head,"  and  as 
I  obeyed  orders  he  roared  out,  "  What !  do  you  call  that  shaving  ?  " 
"  No ;  I  call  that  holding  up  my  head." 

"Take  that  razor  again,  and  go  into  your  cell."  I  took  the 
razor,  went  into  my  cell,  shut  the  door,  laid  the  razor  upon  the  little 
table  till  Donald  came  round  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  time.  "  Are 
you  done  with  that  razor?"  "Yes,  long  ago."  "Let  me  look  at 
you  now."     "  Here." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  shaved 
yourself  again  since  I  gave  you  that  razor  last?" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  tell  you  any  such  thing." 

"  What  did  I  give  you  the  razor  for  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  can't  say ;  you  told  me  take  it  and  I  obeyed 
orders." 

"  Here,  now,  take  that  razor  again  and  shave  your  neck,  or  if  you 
don't  I'll  make  you  do  it." 

"  Oh,  Governor !  I  shaved  my  neck  as  well  as  I  could.  It  is  al- 
ways a  torture  to  me  to  do  that  part  of  my  shaving,  and  I  can't  do 
it  any  better." 

"  But  you  must  do  it." 

"  Oh  !  there  is  no  use  in  my  trying ;  if  you  don't  consider  I  am 
shaven  according  to  discipline,  you  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  shave 
me  in  order."  « 

"  What !  me  shave  you  !  " 

"Yes;  the  officers  in  Pentonville  shaved  us  regularly." 

"Then  I  tell  you  that  you'll  get  no  officer  to  shave  you  here, 
and  now  take  that  razor  again  and  have  yourself  properly  cleaned 
when  I  call  in  ten  minutes." 

"  111  take  the  razor,  Governor,  but  inasmuch  as  I  have  shaved  as 
well  as  I  could  this  evening,  you  may  as  well  take  it  with  you, 
unless  you  are  prepared  to  carry  out  the  prison  discipline  yourself." 

He  looked  at  me  steadily  for  a  moment  or  so  and  I  looked  at 
him ;  then  ordering  me  to  shut  my  door  we  parted  for  that  evening, 
but  next  day  he  had  me  taken  before  the  Governor  on  a  charge  of 
refusing  to  shave  and  giving  gross  insolence. 

Governor — "  What  have  you  to  say  to  the  charge  ?  " 

"Nothing." 

"  Did  you  refuse  to  shave  ?  " 

"No;  I  did  shave." 

"  Why  didn't  you  shave  your  neck  better  ?  " 

"I  shaved  it  as  well  as  I  could.  This  shaving  is  one  of  the 
prison  punishments.  To  me  it  is  a  kind  of  torture,  and  I  don't  like 
to  see  myself  the  agent  of  my  own  punishment.  I  believe  if  the 
regulations  were  properly  carried  out  that  a  razor  would  never  be 
allowed  into  the  hands  of  a  convict.     I  have  shaved  myself  as  well 


O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  143 

as  I  could,  and  if  you  don't  like  how  I  enforce  the  discipline  on  my- 
self I  am  willing  to  submit  myself  to  a  closer  application  of  it  at 
the  hands  of  the  officer." 

Governor — "  Cannot  you  fellows  shave  each  other  ?  " 
"I  cannot  shave  myself  according  to  your  liking,  and  I  have 
never  attempted  to  shave  anyone  else,  nor  can  I  do  it."  Bane  got 
instructions  to  ask  if  there  was  any  one  in  our  party  who  could 
shave  the  others.  Michael  Moore  and  Pat  Dunne  con  ented  to  try, 
and  after  that  I  submitted  myself  to  their  manipulations. 

"You,  fellows,"  was  not  a  very  unusual  expression  with  this 
Governor  Clifton  in  addressing  us,  or,  at  least,  in  addressing  me, 
and  this  studied  insult,  instead  of  making  me  feel  my  degradation, 
made  me  only  feel  more  disposed  to  despise  the  meanness  of  the 
man. 

When  the  orders  came  that  we  were  not  to  speak  on  the  works, 
Gunning  had  us  to  remove  our  blocks  two  yards  further  apart  than 
they  were  previously,  and,  thinking  I  was  too  comfortably  situated 
with  Hugh  Brophy,  he  took  me  away  from  the  quarrying  and 
placed  me  in  an  isolated  position,  with  Cornelius  Manus  O'Keeffe 
and  Thomas  Clarke  Luby,  at  the  other  two  corners  of  our  triangle. 
O'Keeffe  was  just  after  being  sent  to  Portland ;  he  had  as  great  a 
desire  for  talking  as  any  one  else,  and  would  often  try  to  reach  me 
by  a  whisper.  I  could  not  hear,  and  I  occasionally  alarmed  him  by 
asking,  in  an  ordinary  tone  of  voice,  what  he  was  saying,  or  trying 
to  say.  This  brought  Gunning's  attention  upon  me,  and  it  was 
then  he  used  to  demand  if  I  persisted  in  defying  the  rules  and  regu- 
lations. O'Keeffe  was  a  good  Irish  scholar,  and  I  tried  to  draw 
him  out  by  giving  him  a  word  of  Gaelic,  which  was  high  treason  to 
the  jailers.  They  prohibitad  us  from  speaking  in  our  mother 
tongue  even  on  the  days  when  we  were  allowed  to  talk.  They 
called  it  "  slang."  I  believe  it  was  Thomas  Duggan,  of  Ballancol- 
lig,  that  was  severely  reprimanded  once  for  speaking  Irish,  and 
threatened  with  severe  punishment  if  he  repeated  the  offence. 

But  if  their  ire  was  raised  at  our  speaking  what  they  could  not 
understand,  their  wit  was  aroused  occasionally  at  our  Irish  names. 
"Regan,"  cried  Gunning  one  day,  as  he  wanted  to  challenge 
Michael  O'Regan  about  something.  Mike  never  raised  his  head, 
but  kept  picking  away  with  his  hammer  till  the  officer,  approach- 
ing, stood  before  his  block  demanding  if  he  did  not  hear  his 
name  called  ?  To  which  the  prisoner  answered  "  No."  "  Is  not 
your  name  Regan  ?"  "  No  ;  my  name  is  O'Regan."  "  Oh  !  then 
I  suppose  I  must  make  amends  for  that?"  said  Gunning,  walking 
away  about  ten  paces,  and,  turning  round,  he  called  "O'-O'Re- 
gan,"  and  told  Mike  whenever  he  forgot  the  "  O"  in  future 
to  remind  him,  and  he'd  put  it  on  on  the  double  the  next 
time.  About  the  time  I  speak  of  Charles  Kickham  was  in  a  very 
infirm  state  of  health.  Five  days  after  he  came  to  the  prison  he 
was  sent  to  the  hospital.     Two  weeks,  afterwards  he  was  sent  to 


144  O*  Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life. 

the  quarries  in  a  very  weak  condition  with  running  sores  on  hia 
neck;  he  was  so  weak  he  could  hardly  stand.  I  believe  I  have 
stated  previously  that  as  he  leaned  against  a  ledge  of  rock, 
while  I  was  dressing  a  large  stone  for  him,  Gunning  seized  him 
by  the  shoulder  and  made  him  stand  up  straight,  telling  him  he 
should  not  rest  that  way  during  hours  of  labor.  But  I  am  going 
to  speak  of  something  now  regarding  him  that  stirred  my  own 
blood  a  little.  We  were  coming  from  dinner  and  had  to  march 
to  the  quarry  with  military  step.  One  officer  was  walking  by  the 
side  of  the  front  men  and  another  by  the  side  of  the  rear.  I  was 
behind  Kickham,  and  I  did  not  know  where  I  was  till  I  saw  Gun- 
ning rush  at  him,  and  giving  him  a  shove,  staggered  him  four  or 
five  paces  out  of  the  ranks.  He  then  laid  hold  of  him  and  drag- 
ged him  to  the  rear.  The  reason  of  all  this  was,  I  suppose,  that 
Kickham  was  not  keeping  the  step,  and  Gunning  wanted  to 
arrange  matters  without  calling  a  "  halt."  Charles  Kickham  was 
taken  to  the  hospital  again  after  a  few  weeks,  and  that  was  the  last 
I  saw  of  him. 

There  was  a  shed  convenient  to  the  place  where  we  worked,  and 
when  it  rained  hard  we  were  taken  there  for  shelter  till  the  shower 
was  over.  All  the  gangs  have  similar  sheds,  and  the  large  bell 
of  the  prison  rang  us  a  notice  to  make  for  shelter  whenever  the  rain 
was  considered  too  heavy.  Hearing  the  bell  one  day,  and  all  of  us 
being  anxiously  waiting  for  it,  as  we  were  wet  through,  we  made 
for  the  shed,  and  the  officer  ordered  us  back  to  our  blocks  again. 
He  kept  us  there  for  over  ten  minutes ;  then  he  gave  the  order 
"  Break  off,"  and  when  we  were  in  the  shed  he  said  no  matter  for 
what  reason  the  bell  rang  we  were  never  to  leave  our  work  until 
we  got  orders  from  him.  He  himself  had  oil-clothes  on,  and  we 
wore  our  thin  suit  of  convict  grey. 

William  F.  Roantree  was  one  of  the  second  next  men  to  me 
in  the  quarry,  and  he  was  in  a  very  precarious  state  of  health 
for  some  time.  He  put  his  hand  into  his  boot  one  day,  and  when 
he  drew  it  out  it  was  full  of  blood ;  not  spotted  with  it,  but  as  he 
slanted  the  palm  of  his  hand  the  blood  streamed  off.  Afflicted  with 
hemorrhoids,  he  was  in  this  state  for  three  months  before  he  was 
allowed  to  rest  in  the  hospital.  He  was  then  declared  invalided, 
and  removed  to  the  invalid  station  at  Woking. 

Martin  Hanly  Carey  was  sledging  another  day,  and  as  he  was 
drawing  the  stroke  the  iron  flew  off  the  handle  of  the  sledge. 
Carev  knocked  his  hand  against  the  rock  and  broke  one  of  his 
nngers.  He  was  taken  to  the  hospital.  The  doctor  wanted  to 
amputate  his  finger,  but  Carey  would  not  allow  him,  in  conse- 
quence of  which  the  doctor  would  not  allow  him  to  remain  in  the 
hospital.  Martin  Hanly  was  sent  out  to  work  the  next  day  with 
his  hand  in  a  sling.  He  was  seated  on  a  heap  of  stones  in  a 
corner  of  the  field,  a  hammer  was  given  to  him,  and  he  was  kept 
there  breaking  stones  day  after  day  for  six  weeks  before  he  could 
»se  the  injured  hand. 


(J  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  145 

When  Carey  wanted  a  barrow  of  large  stones  I  waited  on  him 
for  the  first  two  or  three  days,  but  the  officers  seeing  that  I  took 
advantage  of  this  for  the  purpose  of  having  a  whisper,  I  was  for- 
bidden to  approach  him  in  future,  and  some  one  else  was  commis- 
sioned to  keep  the  invalid  supplied  with  work.  Carey,  one  of 
these  days,  overheard  the  Governor  telling  the  warder  to  report 
some  of  us  for  idleness,  and  next  day  we  were  taken  before  this  im- 
partial judge  to  be  sentenced  to  our  several  terms  of  bread  and 
water. 

Occasionally  there  seemed  to  be  a  necessity  for  punishing 
us  to  show  that  the  rules  were  administered  with  rigor,  and  the 
discipline  vigorously  carried  out.  Every  adverse  wind  that  blew 
from  Ireland  brought  us  a  kick  or  a  bark,  or  deprived  us  of  a  bit  o£ 
our  daily  bread.  Possibly,  too,  that  some  English  philanthropists 
were  saying  we  were  treated  with  milk-and-honey  kindness,  and 
that,  consequently,  it  was  no  wonder  sedition  was  rife  in  Ireland 
as  there  were  no  terrors  for  the  rebels. 

All  my  punishments  hitherto  had  been  for  talking,  but  when  I 
was  brought  up  for  idleness  the  Governor  read  me  a  lecture,  and  said 
"  there  were  educated  gentlemen  working  in  the  next  quarries  to  me 
who  dressed  seven  stones  a  day,  whereas  we  dressed  but  one  or  two 
each.  These  men  he  spoke  of  were  brought  up  gentlemen,  and 
never  did  a  day's  work  till  they  came  to  prison ;  I  should  learn  to 
work  as  well  as  they  did,  or,  if  I  didn't,  should  take  the  consequences. 
The  discipline  of  the  prison  should  be  maintained." 

"  Governor,"  said  I,  "  as  you  cannot  put  me  in  the  category  of 
your  English  educated  gentlemen,  you  must  excuse  me  for  not  en- 
tering into  competition  with  them  in  the  amount  of  convict  labor 
to  be  done."  I  got  my  dose  of  bread  and  water,  and  when  it  was 
taken  I  came  to  the  quarry  with  a  resolution  which  no  one  could 
understand  but  myself,  and  which  I  did  not  care  to  explain  to 
any  one. 

I  went  to  my  block,  took  my  pick  in  hand,  and  hammered 
away  for  the  dear  life  at  my  stone.  In  less  than  an  hour  I  had 
it  finished.  I  took  another  and  dressed  it  in  about  the  same 
time,  and  as  I  was  at  the  third  I  saw  some  of  the  boys  look  at 
me  now  and  again  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  One  of  the  pris- 
oners helped  another  in  taking  the  dressed  stone  to  the  pile,  and  in 
going  from  that  to  the  quarry  for  a  rough  one.  The  passage  way 
was  a  path  through  the  party  of  workers,  and  going  for  my  fourth 
stone  one  would  whisper  as  I  was  passing  him  by,  "Rossa,  are  you 
mad?"  another,  "are  you  crazy?"  another,  "what  the  devil  ails 
you  ?"  To  all  of  which  I  never  spoke  a  word,  but  smiled,  till  I  was 
passing  John  O'Leary,  who  never  minced  matters,  but  always  came 
out  with  what  he  thought  suitable  ,  and  when  he  said  "  Mr.  O'Don- 
ovan,  that  is  a  very  poor  way  of  showing  your  vanity,"  I  replied, 
"I  agree  with  you,  Mr.  O'Leary;  but  you  must  agree  with  me  that 
we  are  in  a  yery  poor  place,"    Gunning  roared  out, "  Stop  that  talk- 


146  O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

ing  there."  I  hurried  with  my  fourth  stone  to  my  block,  and  hur- 
ried to  have  it  dressed  as  soon  as  possible.  Our  average  work  every 
day  was  about  a  stone  and  a  half,  or  two,  and  when  Gunning  saw 
that  I  was  likely  to  break  this  average,  he  seemed  to  be  getting 
into  good  humor.  Approaching  mo,  he  said,  smilingly,  "  Rossa, 
you're  getting  on  well  to-day." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Gunning ;  I  want  to  show  myself  a  gentleman  con- 
vict." 

"  Oh,  I  see  you  remember  what  the  Governor  said  to  you." 

"  Yes,  Mr,  Gunning;  I  want  to  show  the  Governor  that  I  can  do 
as  much  work  any  day  as  one  of  his  English  gentlemen." 

"  Hallo  !  what's  that  I  see  there  ?"  (pointing  to  a  large  hole  in  the 
hip  of  my  trousers,  for  I  had  placed  the  handle  of  the  pick  against 
my  side  while  working,  in  order  to  lessen  the  weight  of  it  while  in 
my  hands,  and  the  friction  or  action  of  the  tool  tore  a  large  hole  in 
my  pants.) 

"  Oh  !  that's  from  hard  work,  Mr.  Gunning." 

"  But  you  must  work  without  tearing  your  clothes ;  you  must 
not  allow  the  handle  of  the  pick  to  rest  that  way  on  your  hip." 

"  If  I  tore  the  flesh  off  my  bones,  Mr.  Gunning,  I  mean  to  show 
the  Governor  that  I  can  do  as  much  work  as  any  of  his  English  gen- 
tlemen he  has  here." 

"  Now,  you'd  better  stop   that  or  I'll  have  to  report  you." 

"  You  may  report  me  or  do  anything  you  please,  but  I'm  deter- 
mined to  work  away  as  hard  as  I  can  till  I  have  the  seven  stones 
dressed."     And  dressed  they  were  before  the  day  ended. 

Coming  out  from  dinner  the  next  time,  we  were  halted  in  front 
of  the  Governor's  office  and  ordered  to  dress  up  in  lines.  He  came 
out  and  read  for  us  a  letter  from  the  Board  of  Directors  giving 
him  permission  to  allow  us  to  write  oftener  than  the  other  prisoners 
if  we  kept  ourselves  free  of  reports;  but  inasmuch  as  the  reporting 
was  in  his  hands  and  the  hands  of  his  officers,  the  privilege  availed 
us  but  little.  If  I  wanted  to  write  I  should,  to  entitle  me  to  consi- 
deration, be  two  months  without  a  report,  and  I  was  never  allowed 
to  have  such  a  clear  record  as  that.  Two  weeks  afterwards  we  were 
halted  in  the  same  place  and  another  letter  was  read  revoking  the 
last  one,  and  stating  that  we  were  to  be  treated  as  ordinary  con- 
victs. After  the  letter  was  read  the  first  day  Gunning  drew  the 
Governor's  attention  to  the  hole  in  my  trousers.  "  Hard  work, 
Governor,"  I  said.  "  But  you  must  not  work  with  your  pick  this 
way,"  said  he,  placing  his  cane  on  his  hip,  and  moving  it  with  both 
hands  as  if  he  was  striking  at  a  stone.  Then  he  gave  the  officer 
instructions  to  report  me  if  he  saw  me  doing  it  again,  and  we  got 
our  marching  orders  to  the  quarry. 

I  quieted  down  to  my  average  labor  of  a  stone  and  a  half,  and 
Gunning  noticing  this,  brought  me  to  account.  I  asked  him,  "  Did 
he  want  me  to  tear  my  trousers  again."  He  said  "  he  did  not,  but 
now   that   I   had   shown  I  could  work  I  should  work."     "  I  have 


O*  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life.  147 

shown,"  I  said,  "  that  an  Irishman  in  any  position  in  life  can  do  as 
much  as  an  Englishman,  and  that  is  all  I  care  to  show,  or  care  to 
do  here."  "  Come  on  with  me,  then,"  and  on  I  went  till  we  stood 
opposite  the  heap  of  nobblers.  "  Where  are  the  seven  stones  you 
dressed  yesterday?"  "  Here  is  one,  and  here  is  one,  and  here  is  an- 
other," and  so  on  till  I  pointed  out  the  seven  to  him.  "  Now,  take 
every  one  of  them  and  pile  them  up  in  front  of  your  block,  place 
three  in  a  line  first,  put  two  on  them,  and  put  the  other  two  on 
top."  I  obeyed  orders,  and  by-and-by  I  had  my  pile  before  me. 
The  boys  christened  it  "Rossa's  folly,"  but  I  met  their  jokes  by 
appealing  to  Gunning  to  use  his  authority  to  make  them  look  upon 
it  as  a  monument  to  my  industry.  I  could  hardly  restrain  my 
laughter  at  the  serious  way  he  would  take  applications  of  this  kind 
from  me.  I  pretended  to  be  in  earnest,  and  it  was  amusing  to  see 
the  look  he'd  give  when  I'd  ask  him  to  prevent  Pat  Dunne  and 
Tom  Duggan  from  laughing  at  my  monument  whenever  they  passed 
it.  "  It  was  hard  enough  to  be  threatened  with  bread  and  water 
for  doing  so  much  work  one  day,  but  to  be  laughed  at  by  my  com- 
rades was  a  thing  I  could  not  stand,  and  I  would  take  the  first 
opportunity  I  could  get  of  running  away  from  the  prison."  "  What ! 
— what ! — what's  that  you  said,  Rossa  ?  running  away  from  the 
prison,  is  it  ?  Don't  you  know  that's  mutiny  ?"  "  Mutiny  or  no 
mutiny,  Governor,  I  wish  I  could  see  a  chance  of  getting  off;  I 
don't  like  to  be  here  at  all." 

Some  of  my  friends  would  gravely  bring  me  to  account  for 
joking  on  such  a  serious  state  of  affairs  as  ours ;  it  did  not  comport 
with  the  dignity  of  our  position  to  trifle  with  it  or  look  upon  it 
lightly.  One  would  occasionally  remark  that  convict  life  seemed 
quite  agreeable  to  my  nature,  and  I  suppose  my  nature  must  be 
kind  to  me,  as  it  moulds  my  head  to  rest  lightly  upon  whatever 
pillow  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  place  under  it.  I  felt  the  pains 
and  penalties  of  convict  life  as  much  as  many  of  my  companions, 
but  I  would  not  give  my  enemies  the  satisfaction  to  see  that  I  did 
feel  them ;  and  it  gave  me  pleasure  to  see  how  disappointed  and 
enraged  they  were  at  my  smiling  and  joking  at  punishments  which 
they  know  bring  a  man  to  the  verge  of  the  grave,  and  in  the  grave 
I  would  be  to-day,  perhaps,  had  I  carried  myself  through  the  tor- 
turing annoyances  of  prison  with  that  gravity  which  is  consonant 
with  dignity  and  a  life  of  death.  There  is  no  better  way  of  fright- 
ening away  a  fairy  than  to  laugh  at  it.  The  man  or  the  woman 
who  can  do  that  in  presence  of  a  Leanawn  Shee  or  a  ghoul  will 
never  be  possessed  by  either. 

"  Let  me  play  the  fool  with  mirth  and  laughter, 
So  let  wrinkles  come — 
And  let  my  visage  rather  heat  with  wine, 
Than  my  heart  cool  with  mortifying  groans." 

We  had  not  much  wine  in  our  time  to  heat  us,  but  it  was  better 
to  try  and  get  the  blood  do  what  it  could  in  that  line  than  to  be 
groaning  or  croaking  where  there  was  no  one  to  pity  us. 


148  O*  Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  monument  of  my  industry  was  raised  I 
was  in  the  quarry  looking  for  a  stone. 

"  Here,"  said  Gunning,  "  take  that" — pointing  to  a  large  round 
one  about  two  hundred  pounds  weight.  Hugh  Brophy  lifted  the 
barrow  with  me,  and  as  he  ascended  a  step  of  the  quarry  the  block 
rolled  back  upon  me  and  threw  me  down.  1  escaped  with  getting 
a  cut  hand,  and  as  I  was  dressing  the  wound,  the  jailer  cried : 

"  Come,  Rossa,  you're  loitering  too  long  about  that  pin  scratch. 
Catch  hold  of  that  barrow  again,  and  take  your  stone  to  the  block." 

"  Rossa  won't  do  any  such  thing,  governor ;  he  is  not  bound  to 
work  beyond  his  strength,  and  that  stone  is  too  heavy  for  him. 
Your  starvation  diet  doesn't  leave  a  man  much  strength." 

James  Flood  came  to  remove  the  stone  with  Brophy,  and  as 
they  moved  off,  I  walking  alongside  of  them,  Gunning  again  cried: 

"  Rossa,  you're  a  man  that  would  suck  another  man's  blood." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it ;  but  you  yourself  look  like  one 
who'd  do  it.  I  don't  think  you're  warranted  in  using  such  language 
to  me  in  the  discharge  of  your  duty,  and  I'll  go  to  the  Governor  to- 
morrow to  ask  if  you  are." 

To-morrow  came,  and  instead  of  my  having  a  charge  against 
Gunning,  he  had  a  charge  against  me  for  idleness,  and  I  had  some 
days  on  bread  and  water  before  I  came  out  again.  When  I  was 
before  the  Governor  I  told  him  I  had  a  charge  against  the  officer, 
and  he  told  me  I  could  make  no  charge  while  I  was  under  report. 
It  was  a  week  before  I  could  get  clear  enough  to  tell  Mr.  Clifton 
what  Gunning  said  to  me,  and  then  the  satisfaction  I  got  was  to 
have  the  Governor  tell  me,  "  I  was  not  to  be  too  sensitive." 
"  Nothing  could  make  me  more  degraded  than  I  was,"  and  "  Did 
we  think  the  officers  were  to  take  off  their  caps  to  us."  "  I  think  it 
is  quite  improper  to  have  such  language  used  towards  prisoners,"  I 
replied.  "  You  have  no  right  to  think  here,"  added  he,  "  you  are  a 
convict  and  must  have  no  will  of  your  own."  "  Bah  !"  said  I,  with 
as  much  contempt  as  I  could  put  into  a  look,  and  the  signal  was 
given  to  have  me  oft  to  "  chokey,"  the  convict's  name  for  his  place 
of  purgatory. 

When  Director  Fagan  came  to  the  prison  I  went  before  him,  and 
told  him  what  the  Governor  said  and  what  Gunning  said  to  me,  and 
both  officer  and  master  denied  that  they  had  ever  said  what  I  have 
stated.  Next  day  Gunning  was  removed  from  the  charge  of  our 
party  and  a  new  officer  put  in  his  place. 

The  first  day  I  met  this  Mr.  Fagan  in  Portland  I  had  not  the 
least  idea  he  was  an  Irishman.  I  didn't  even  know  his  name, 
and  whatever  I  had  to  see  him  about  I  said  in  the  course  of  conver- 
sation, "  Governor,  if  in  bringing  us  from  Ireland  to  England  the 
Government  contemplate  effecting  a  change  in  us,  they  ought  to 
know  that  it  is  not  by  starvation  an  Irishman  can  be  changed  into 
an  Englishman."  I  don't  know  what  he  said  at  the  time,  but  when 
I  learned  he  was  an  Irishman  I  thought  he  should  think  my  words 


O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  149 

were  meant  to  insult  him  unprovokedly,  and  nine  months  after- 
wards I  told  him  I  understood  he  was  an  Irishman,  that  I  did  not 
know  it  when  I  met  him  at  first,  and  if  I  did  I  would  not  make  use 
of  some  observations  he  heard  from  me  regarding  Englishmen  and 
Irishmen.  He  told  me  he  did  not  remember  I  said  anything  offen- 
sive, and  I  replied  it  might  look  so  if  I  knew  he  was  an  Irishman.  I 
was  this  time  under  punishment  for  refusing  to  pick  oakum.  He 
asked  why  I  was  not  doing  my  work,  and  I  asked  him  why  I 
was  not  getting  my  food.  "  But  you're  under  punishment."  "  That's 
the  very  reason  that  I  consider  it  wrong  to  ask  me  to  work,"  I  re- 
plied ;  and  then  asking  if  he  could  hear  a  charge  against  the  Gover- 
nor for  defaming  my  character,  he  said  he  could  not,  as  I  was  under 
report,  and,  turning  away  from  my  cell,  the  door  was  closed. 

It  was  not  much  relief  to  anyone  to  lose  Gunning  but  to  me. 
Russell  came  in  his  place,  and  though  he  was  not  so  insolent,  he 
was  every  bit  as  well  able  to  worry  us.  It  was  he,  who,  when  the 
rain-bell  rang  to  have  us  go  into  the  shed  for  shelter  ordered  us 
back  again  until  the  orders  came  from  his  tongue,  and  kept  us  under 
the  shower  until  Ave  were  wet  through.  However,  my  nose  was  not 
so  much  kept  to  the  grinding-stone  as  under  Gunning,  and  I  removed 
"  Rossa's  folly"  to  the  general  pile  without  Russell's  asking  me  to 
leave  the  monument  stand.  Then  I  could  help  this  man  or  that  man 
to  bring  a  stone  from  the  quarry  which  I  could  not  do  with  Gunning, 
as  he  had  detailed  one  to  travel  with  me,  and  I  had  no  chance  of  a 
word  with  anyone  else.  In  one  of  these  recreative  hours  when  I 
used  to  be  holding  a  chisel  while  another  was  hammering  at  it  to 
split  a  rock,  I  fell  in  with  Michael  O'Regan,  and  he  commenced 
telling  me  his  woes.  The  burden  of  them  was  that  Father  Zanetti 
would  not  give  him  absolution,  that  Father  Poole  would  not  give  it 
either  unless  he  gave  up  the  organization,  and  as  he  meant  to  stick 
to  Ireland  it  was  too  bad  that  he  could  not  go  to  his  duty  for  seven 
years.  This  fidelity  to  Ireland  and  the  old  faith  at  the  same  time 
must  have  touched  some  sentimental  chord  of  mine.  An  Irish 
peasant,  speaking  of  something  he  feels  bitterly,  can  put  more  pathos 
into  a  simple  story  than  some  of  the  greatest  orators  can,  and  Mike's 
account  of  what  he  was  suffering  from  the  English  priests  putting 
his  duty  to  his  country  in  opposition  to  his  faith,  affected  me  so 
much  that  I  threw  the  chisel  out  my  hand  and  walked  away  from 
him  towards  my  block.  It  was  the  second  time  that  I  got  soft  in 
prison,  and  from  the  same  train  of  thought. 

Michael  O'Regan  came  to  Ireland  in  '64,  on  a  message  from  John 
O'Mahony,  and  remained  in  expectation  of  the  fight.  He  went  to 
the  southern  coast  of  Ireland,  where  he  was  born,  and  commenced 
bringing  the  men  together.  He  was  arrested  and  sentenced  to 
seven  years'  penal  servitude  on  a  charge  of  swearing  in  some  navy 
men,  in  Castletownsend,  who  belonged  to  Queen  Victoria's  revenue 
cruiser.  His  brother,  Patrick,  came  to  Ireland  a  few  years  before, 
but  finding  that  things  were  not  ready  for  a  fight,  went  back  to 


150  0 '  Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Life. 

America  and  died.  Mike  and  Pat  told  the  mother  one  day  in  New 
York  that  they  would  go  to  Ireland  to  help  the  boys  there  and 
leave  their  youngest  brother,  John,  at  home  to  take  care  of  her. 
4  No,"  said  she,  "  I  was  able  to  take  care  of  myself  long  before  ye 
were  any  help  to  me.  I  am  strong  enough  still  to  do  so,  and  John 
must  go  too,  for  he  will  do  more  good  helping  ye  than  helping  me." 


CHAPTER  XI. 


VISITS DEMANDS    FOR    VISITORS     EXPENSES DEVILS MY    WIFE    AND 

CHILD    IN   PRISON MY    MEMORANDUM     BOOK MY    WIFE'S    POEMS 

— MY     LETTER FEAR     OF     PUBLICITY COMPROMISE     WITH     THE 

GOVERNOR MY    LOVE  LETTERS   ON  A  SLATE DETERMINATION  TO 

WRITE    SURREPTITIOUS    LETTERS CONVICT    LYNCH HIS    GIFT    OF 

PEN,     INK,     AND     PAPER "  CONSPIRACY  "    TO     BREAK     PRISON 

MICHAEL    MO  ORE'S    FAILURE HUGH  BROPHY'S  FAILURE MYSELF 

A     HYPOCRITE LYNCH     DETECTED     IN     CARRYING    MY    LETTER 

PUNISHMENT      OF      HIM      AND      ME TRY     AGAIN MY    AMOUR   IN 

PRISON BRINGS     BREAD     AND     WATER,     AND      ENDLESS     PUNISH- 
MENTS    ON     ME JERRY     o'DONOVAN,      OF      BLARNEY REV.      MR. 

ZANETTI THE     DEVIL IRELAND'S     SOGGARTH     AROON ZANETTI 

GIVING    EVIDENCE    BEFORE    THE  COMMISSION THE    EVIL    EYE A 

PETITION    ON    "THINK    WELL    OF    IT,"    AND    WHAT    CAME    OF    IT 

WRITING     IN    THE     DARK CAT'S     EYES MY    MEMORIAL     TO     THE 

SECRETARY    OF    STATE. 

Visits  from  our  friends  to  us  were  something  which  the  author- 
ities availed  themselves  of  for  the  purpose  of  giving  us  much  an- 
noyance. Every  convict  is  allowed  one  every  six  months,  but  if 
the  officers  choose  to  have  him  on  their  books  as  ill-conducted  he 
may  never  be  allowed  to  see  the  face  of  a  friend  from  the  outside 
world.  My  wife  had  been  writing  from  Ireland  to  know  if  she 
would  be  permitted  to  see  me,  and  the  Governor  told  me  one  day 


O*  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  151 

that  as  a  favor  to  her,  not  to  me,  he  was  going  to  grant  her  per- 
mission to  come.  I  told  this  to  my  friends,  and  we  thought  it  would 
be  well  if  some  others  availed  of  her  coming  for  the  purpose  of 
having  their  visit  from  her,  in  order  that  we  might  glean  as  much 
news  as  we  could.  Martin  Ilanley  Carey  saw  the  Governor  on  the 
subject,  and  told  him  the  only  friend  he  cared  to  see  was  his 
mother,  but  as  she  was  old,  and  could  not  come  to  Portland  without 
much  inconvenience  and  expense,  he  would  be  obliged  if  the  "  visit  " 
which  the  rules  allowed  him  wras  granted  by  allowing  him  to  see 
Mrs.  O'Donovan.  She  could  convey  to  his  mother,  who  lived  in 
Eyrecourt,  County  Galway,  anything  he  had  to  say.  The  Governor 
said  he  would  consult  the  Directors,  and  in  a  few  days  after  Carey 
was  sent  for,  and  told  that  the  authorities  would  not  allow  him  to 
see  my  v>ife.  I  had  given  some  trouble  about  these  visits  some 
time  before,  for  I  had  applied  to  the  Governor  to  know  if  the  ex- 
penses of  our  friends  would  be  paid  when  they  came  to  see  us. 
"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  Governor,  "  why  should  you  expect  such  ?" 
"  I  don't  expect  it  at  all,"  I  said.  "  Then  why  do  you  ask  ?" 
"Because  I  desire  to  learn  how  justly  the  Government  mean  to  act 
by  us.  If  they  left  us  in  Ireland  where  we  were  convicted  our 
friends  could  see  us  without  much  expense  or  inconvenience :  they 
adopt  an  extraordinary  course  in  bringing  us  to  England ;  and  it  is 
only  fair  and  just  that  they  should  pay  the  expenses  of  our  visitors 
from  Ireland  and  back  again." 

"  The  Government  can  do  what  they  please  with  you." 

"  I  know  they  can  !  But  when  ordinary  prisoners  are  convicted 
in  Ireland  they  are  not  brought  to  England ;  we  should  have  the 
benefit  of  the  convict  law  as  it  stands  in  Ireland,  and  if  the  Govern- 
ment cannot  afford  to  keep  us  there,  where  our  friends  could  easily 
see  us  when  the  regular  visits  were  due,  they  ought  to  pay  their  ex- 
penses to  England  as  they  paid  ours." 

"  The  Government  are  treating  you  too  kindly  and  considerately. 
Twenty  years  ago  you'd  have  been  hanged." 

"  It  might  be  better  we  were  hanged,  and  certainly  it  was 
through  no  merciful  consideration  for  us  that  we  were  not.  No 
political  prisoners  have  ever  been  treated  in  any  country  as  we  are 
treated  by  the  English." 

"  You  are  treated  too  well ;  you  have  put  back  the  prosperity  of 
Ireland  twenty  years  ;  thousands  of  moneyed  people  have  fled  from 
it,  and  you  don't  know  what  ruin  you  have  brought  on  the 
country." 

Here  I  laughed  outright,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  not,  as  a 
matter  of  justice,  place  my  application  before  the  authorities.  He 
said  he  would,  and  sent  for  me  in  a  few  days  to  tell  me  the  Directors 
had  refused  to  pay  the  expenses  of  our  visitors  from  Ireland. 

These  kind  of  things  varied  the  monotony  of  my  prison  life,  and 
afforded  me  amusement,  too.  Any  of  my  friends  did  not  know  but 
that  I  was  serious  in  this  matter  of  applying  for  the  expenses,  and 


152  0 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

when  I  would  say  I  was  in  high  hopes  of  having  them  granted,  and 
what  a  grand  thing  it  would  be  to  be  putting  the  Government  to 
the  cost  of  four  or  five  hundred  pounds  a-year  for  bringing  over  all 
our  friends,  some  of  the  party  would  say  that  they,  for  their  part, 
would  not  take  a  penny  of  the  money,  and  that  they  would  go  to 
the  Governor  right  off  and  tell  him  so.  To  this  I'd  reply  there  was 
no  necessity  to  be  in  a  hurry  in  the  matter ;  they  could  have 
patience  until  they'd  see  how  my  application  would  succeed,  and 
they  should  understand  I  did  not  make  it  for  any  one  but  myself, 
and  for  my  part  the  more  expense  I  could  put  the  Government  to 
the  more  I  liked  it.  Many  fell  in  with  this  view,  but  the  "  dignity," 
"honor,"  or  "humor"  involved  in  the  question  was  very  soon  de- 
cided by  the  announcement  of  the  refusal. 

I  was  sent  for  to  the  Deputy's  office  one  evening  to  put  the  name 
and  address  of  my  wife  on  the  visiting  ticket.  As  I  was  writing  an 
officer  came  in  and  reported  that  a  certain  prisoner  had  been  very 
idle  all  day,  and  asked  what  would  be  done  with  him.  The  Prin- 
cipal looked  towards  me  and  said,  "  If  a  man  will  not  work,  neither 
let  him  eat ;"  but,  added  he,  looking  at  the  officer,  "  as  he  has  a 
good  character  give  him  another  chance,  and  don't  put  him  under 
report  this  time."  There  was  no  punishment,  no  torture  inflicted  on 
a  prisoner  that  these  officers  could  not  back  with  a  quotation  from 
the  Bible.  "  The  Devil  can  quote  Scripture  for  his  purpose,"  and  if 
devils  do  really  "  go  about  like  roaring  lions  seeking  whom  they 
may  devour,"  I  had  the  honor  of  seeing  some  of  them  in  English 
prisons,  not  in  the  lowest  grade  of  office  either,  but  like  the  old 
fellow  himself,  high  in  authority. 

For  days  and  weeks  after  sending  the  ticket  I  was  expecting  the 
visit,  and  at  the  end  of  a  month  I  had  nearly  given  it  up,  when  one 
day  while  I  was  at  dinner  my  door  was  opened,  and  I  was  told, 
"  Come  on."  "  Where  now  ?"  I  asked.  "  Ask  no  questions,"  said 
the  officer,  "  but  come  on."  I  was  taken  to  the  door  of  the  room 
where  I  was  examined  the  first  day,  and  as  I  entered  I  saw  my  wife, 
and  in  her  arms  the  baby  I  never  saw  before. 

I  hesitated  before  approaching  her,  because  I  heard  that  in  the 
visiting  places  there  were  panels  or  partitions  between  the  parties. 
Discipline  was  so  much  in  my  mind  that  I  stood  there  till  she  or  I 
would  go  behind  a  separating  barrier ;  or  perhaps  I  had  pride  enough 
to  keep  me  from  making  an  advance  that  they  had  in  their  power  to 
repel.  The  officer  who  was  standing  by  her  side  said,  "You  can 
come  up  here  and  speak  to  your  wife  for  twenty  minutes,  but  if  you 
tell  her  anything  relating  to  matters  inside  the  prison,  or  if  she  tells 
you  anything  relating  to  outside  matters,  I  must  end  the  visit.  I 
sat  down  and  took  the  baby  in  my  lap,  but  the  little  fellow  did  not 
seem  to  know  me,  though  he  was  then  three  months  old.  Indeed,  1 
think  his  mother  hardly  knew  me.  It  was  the  first  time  she  saw  me 
since  I  was  shorn,  shaved,  and  dressed  in  convict  fashion.  She  felt 
my  hands,  which  were  as  rough  as  oyster-shells,  and  my  face  had 


(?  Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life.  153 

been  baked  to  the  color  of  an  earthenware  crock.  For  the  first  few 
minutes  I  kept  talking  to  the  son  all  the  time,  thinking  what  in  the 
world  could  I  say  to  the  mother,  and  I  think  we  parted  without 
saying  much.  There  was  the  jailer  right  beside  us,  and  my  tongue 
was  paralyzed.  At  the  end  of  twenty  minutes  Mr.  Bulwer,  the 
Deputy  Governor,  entered,  and  said  in  consideration  of  my  never 
seeing  the  child  before  he  would  extend  the  time  ten  minutes  longer. 
I  had  messages  from  William  Roantree,  James  O'Connor,  Denis 
Mulcahy,  and  several  others,  but  when  I  attempted  to  say  anything 
of  any  other  prisoner  I  was  told  I  should  confine  myself  to  my  own 
case.  As  we  were  parting  I  recollected  1  had  a  few  notes  scratched 
on  a  bit  of  slate  in  my  pocket,  and  as  I  took  it  out  the  officer 
seized  it.  The  wife  vanished,  and  I  went  to  work  with  a  heavier 
heart  than  ever.  I  had  a  load  on  it  I  could  not  unburthen,  and  I 
felt  it  weighing  me  down. 

Not  many  days  elapsed  before  I  got  into  a  scrape  with  the 
Governor.  He  told  me  he  was  away  from  home  the  day  my  wife 
came,  and  if  he  was  in  the  prison  he  would  not  allow  her  to  see  me 
in  consequence  of  my  bad  conduct,  and  the  Deputy-Governor  tres- 
passed too  much  upon  his  discretionary  power  in  allowing  me  to  see 
her  in  the  reception-room  instead  of  in  the  ordinary-place.  I  told  him 
he  need  not  feel  very  much  discomforted  on  account  of  any  happi- 
ness or  consolation  my  wife's  visit  brought  me,  and  I  was  very  sorry 
if  Captain  Bulwer's  kindness  subjected  him  to  any  reproof.  The 
Deputy  was  one  of  the  most  gentlemanly  of  the  officers  that  I  met 
in  prison.  I  never  spoke  two  words  to  him,  he  always  did  his  duty, 
but  in  doing  it  he  never  gave  that  haughty,  contemptuous  look  that 
others  would  give,  and  never  wantonly  wounded  our  feelings  by  any 
impudent  remarks.  I  suppose  if  he  is  still  in  authority  it  will  not 
serve  him  to  have  me  say  this,  but  I  must  speak  the  truth  of  all  I 
came  across  in  my  prison  life.  The  schoolmasters  of  Portland  Prison 
were  also  gentlemanly  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty.  The  mistake 
made  by  those  who  charge  themselves  with  the  reformation  of  con- 
victs is  to  give  them  in  charge  to  brutes,  instead  of  to  men  with 
human  or  humane  feelings. 

A  kind  word  or  a  wanton  insult  to  the  biggest  criminal  will  have 
much  the  same  effect  on  him  as  on  us  in  penal  servitude.  The  opinion 
seems  to  prevail  with  English  jailers  that  kind  words  are  thrown 
away  upon  their  prisoners,  and  the  only  way  to  keep  them  up  to  the 
discipline  is  to  lash  and  abuse  them  into  it.  I  found  these  tactics 
resorted  to  in  our  case,  and  if  for  nothing  else  but  to  show  they 
would  fail,  and  that  we  had  something  in  us  better  than  the 
thieves  and  murderers  they  classed  us  with,  I  determined  that  there 
was  one  man  who  would  go  to  his  grave  before  he  gave  them  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  they  could  lash  him  into  submission  by  insult, 
chains,  and   bread  and  water. 

As  I  have  not  said  much  about  the  visit  of  my  wife,  and  as 
there  is  very  little  poetry  in  this  narrative  of  mine,  let  me  be  par- 


154  O' -Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

doned  for  giving  a  little  of  her  description  of  meeting  me  in  Port- 
land. I  should  wish  she  had  written  more  flatteringly  of  me,  but  I 
suppose  she  does  not  consider  me  so  ugly  now. 

A  Visit  to  my  Husband  in  Prison. 
Mat,   1866. 

Within  the  precincts  of  the  prison  bounds, 

Treading  the  sunlit  courtyard  to  a  hall, 
Roomy  and  unadorned,  where  the  light 

Thro'  scieenless  windows  glaringly  did  fall. 

Within  the  precincts  of  the  prison  walls, 

With  rushing  memories  and  bated  breath ; 
With  heart  elate  and  light  swift  step  that  smote 

Faint  echoes  in  this  house  of  living  death. 

Midway  I  stood  in  bright  expectancy, 

Tightly  I  clasped  my  babe,  my  eager  sight 
Restlessly  glancing  down  the  long,  low  room 

To  where  a  door  bedimmed  the  walls'  pure  white. 

They  turned — the  noi  seless  locks  ;  the  portal  fell 
With  clank  of  chain  wide  open,  and  the  room 

Held  him— my  wedded  love.    My  heart  stood  still 
With  sudden  shock,  with  sudden  sense  of  doom. 

My  heart  stood  still  that  had  with  gladsome  bound 
Counted  the  moments  ere  he  should  appear — 

Drew  back  at  sight  so  changed,  and  shivering  waited, 
Pulselessly  waited  while  his  steps  drew  near  ! 

Oh  !  for  a  moment's  twilight  that  might  hide 
The  harsh  tanned  features  once  so  soft  and  fair  ! 

The  shrunken  eyes  that  with  a  feeble  flash 
Smiled  on  my  presence  and  his  infant's  there  ! 

Oh. !  for  a  shadow  on  the  cruel  sun 
That  mocked  thy  father.  Baby,  with  his  glare ; 

Oh  !  for  the  night  of  nothingness  or  death 
Ere  thou,  my  love,  this  felon  garb  should  wear  ! 

It  needed  not  these  passionate,  pain-wrung  words, 

Falling  with  sad  distinctness  from  thy  lips, 
To  tell  a  tale  of  insult,  abject  toil, 

And  day-long  labor  hewing  Portland  steeps! 

It  needed  not,  my  love,  this  anguished  glance, 

This  fading  fire  within  thy  gentle  eyes, 
To  rouse  the  torpid  voices  of  my  heart, 

Till  all  the  sleeping  heavens  shall  hear  their  cries. 

God  of  the  wronged,  and  can  Thy  vengeance  sleep  t 
And  shall  our  night  of  anguish  know  no  day? 

And  can  Thy  justice  leave  our  souls  to  weep 
Yet,  and  yet  longer  o'er  our  land's  decay! 

Must  we  still  cry— "How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long?" 

For  seven  red  centuries  a  country's  woe 
Has  wept  the  prayer  in  tears  of  blood,  and  still 

Our  tears  to-night  for  fresher  victims  flow! 


(y* Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  155 

And  flow  it  seems  they  must  for  still  fresher  victims  again, 
befo  c  the  soil  is  watered  enough  to  produce  a  race  of  men  able  to 
strike  the  tyrant  down. 

When  my  wife  reached  home  she  sent  me  a  photograph  of  her- 
self and  baby,  and  a  few  days  after  its  arrival  in  the  prison  the 
governor  sent  for  me  and  said  he  should  return  it  again.  I  observed 
it  was  a  very  harmless  thing  to  allow  me  to  keep  ;  but,  no,  it  would 
not  be  allowed,  the  prison  rules  did  not  permit  it,  the  discipline 
should  be  maintained,  and  my  photograph  returned.  "  However," 
added  he,  "  as  you  seem  to  be  improving  in  your  conduct  lately  I'll 
allow  you  to  look  at  the  picture  before  I  return  it."  I  took  it  out 
of  his  hand,  and  taking  the  look,  gave  it  back  to  him.  I  afterwards 
learned  that  the  thieves  were  allowed  photographs,  but,  then,  these 
were  thieves  of  good  character,  and  unfortunately  for  me  I  was  in 
bad  repute. 

I  find  in  my  wife's  book  of  poems,  one  on  the  return  of  the  pho- 
tograph to  her,  and  I  will  give  that,  too,  a  place  in  my  Prison  Life. 

"the  returned  picture. 

"  [In  1863,  while  my  husband  was  confined  in  Portland  Convict 
Establishment,  I  sent  to  him  a  likeness  of  mine  and  baby's,  taken 
specially  for  him,  as  he  had  never  seen  the  child,  its  birth  occurring 
after  his  conviction  and  sentence.  The  following  week  I  was  re- 
turned the  carte,  with  a  polite  note  from  the  Prison  Governor,  to 
inform  me  that  "  Prison  rules  did  not  allow  convicts  the  possession 
of  likenesses."] 

Refused  admission !  Baby,  Baby, 

Don't  you  feel  a  little  pain? 
See,  your  picture  with  your  mother's, 

From  the  prison  back  again? 
They  are  cruel,  cruel  jailers — 

They  are  heartless,  heartless  men! 

Ah!  you  laugh  my  little  Flax  Hair! 

But  my  eyes  are  full  of  tears; 
And  my  heart  is  sorely  troubled 

With  old  voices  in  my  ears; 
With  the  lingering  disappointment 
That  is  shadowing  my  years! 

Was  it  much  to  ask  them,  Baby — 

These  rough  menials  of  the  Queen? 
Was  it  much  to  ask  them,  give  him 

This  poor  picture,  form  and  mien 
Of  the  wife  he  loved,  the  little  son 

He  never  yet  had  seen? 

Ah!  they're  cruel,  cruel  jailers, 

They  are  heartless,  heartless  men! 
To  bar  the  last  poor  comfort  from 

Your  father's  prison  pen  ; 
To  shut  our  picture  from  the  gates 

And  send  it  home  asrainl 


156  0' r Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life. 

Cruel,  cruel  jailers,  and  heartless,  heartless  men  are  they  truly 
without  question,  and  especially  so  when  their  captives  are  Irish- 
men who  would  rid  their  country  of  English  rule. 

Time  passed  on,  and  the  day  came  around  again  when  I  was 
allowed  to  write  a  letter.  This,  of  course,  was  written  to  my  wife. 
1  had  a  mother  in  America,  and  I  was  anxious  to  send  her  a  line, 
but  these  humane  English  would  not,  for  any  consideration  at  this 
time,  extend  to  me  the  privilege  of  an  extra  letter.  They  would 
not  even  give  me  a  scrap  of  paper  on  which  I  would  write  a  few 
lines  to  enclose  in  my  wife's  to  the  old  woman  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave.  I  made  a  special  application  for  it  to  the  Governor,  and  he 
refused  me. 

My  letter  was  written ;  it  had  been  given  in  a  few  days ;  the 
Governor  sent  for  me,  and  when  I  was  regularly  placed  in  the 
"  stand-to  attention  "  attitude  before  him,  he  said — 

"  You  will  not  cease  complaining ;  what  is  the  use  of  your  writ- 
ing these  letters  ?     You  know  I  cannot  send  them  out." 

"  Governor,  have  you  read  my  letter  ?  I  think  you  must  be  mis- 
taken. I  have  certainly  uttered  no  word  of  complaint,  and  I  don't 
think  I  have  infringed  on  any  of  the  rules  in  anything  I  have  said 
in  that  letter." 

•  "  I  haven't  read  it ;  I  couldn't  read  it,  the  writing  is  so  small. 
Your  letters  take  up  more  of  my  time  than  all  the  other  prisoners', 
and  you  have  written  between  the  lines,  which  is  a  thing  specially 
forbidden  by  the  instructions." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  thing  you  might  excuse  me  for,  seeing  that  I 
have  only  one  leaf  of  paper,  and  having  such  a  large  family,  and  so 
much  to  say ;  I  can  read  that  letter  in  five  minutes  for  you,  and  if 
you  notice  anything  objectionable  in  it,  as  I  go  on,  I  will  scratch  it 
out." 

"  Here,  then,  read  it." 

I  commenced  reading,  and  I  ended  reading  without  his  objecting 
to  anything,  and,  as  I  finished,  I  said — 

"  Now,  Governor,  you  see  that  there  is  nothing  objectionable  in 

it." 

"  There  is  no  use,  I  can't  allow  that  letter  to  be  published." 

"Published!"  cried  I  in  amazement.  "Why,  Governor,  sure 
the  letter  is  for  my  wife." 

"  Oh,  but  your  wife  publishes  your  letters." 

"  Publish  my  private  letters  !  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  she  does 
that  ?" 

"  I  do,  and  more  than  that ;  when  these  people  come  visiting 
here  they  publish  all  they  can  learn  about  the  prison,  and  bring  a 
lot  of  trouble  upon  me." 

"  I  am  very  sure  that  I  would  not  write  such  a  letter  as  that  to 
my  wife  if  I  thought  she  would  publish  it,  and  I  am  sure  she  would 
not." 

"  Weil,  if  you  write  on  the  head  of  that  letter  that  it  is  private, 
and  not  to  be  published,  I  will  x>ass  it." 


O^D&novan  fossa's  Prison  Life,  157 

"  Oh,  certainly,  Governor,  that's  what  I  will  willingly  do." 

I  got  a  pen  and  wrote  the  following  words,  which  I  copy  from 
the  original  letter  now  before  me  : — 

"  Do  not,  love,  make  such  letters  as  this  public.  I  do  not  write 
for  such  a  purpose.  'Tis  rather  delicate,  this  letter,  too,  as  all  my 
letters  to  you  must  needs  be." 

Then  comes  the  printed  instructions  on  the  face  of  the  paper  in 
these  words — 

"  Convict  Establishment,  Portland, 
near  Weymouth. 

"  Convicts  are  permitted  to  write  and  to  receive  letters  and  visits 
periodically  according  to  the  class  which  they  may  attain  by  good 
conduct,  as  follows,  viz. :  third  class  every  six  months ;  second 
class  every  four  months,  and  first  class  every  three  months.  All 
letters  must  be  prepaid.  Matters  of  private  importance  to  a  con- 
vict may  be  communicated  at  any  time  by  letter  (prepaid)  to  the 
Governor,  who  will  inform  the  convict  thereof  if  expedient. 

"  In  case  of  any  misconduct  the  above  privileges  may  be  for- 
feited for  the  time. 

"  All  letters  of  an  improper  or  idle  tendency,  either  to  or  from 
convicts,  or  containing  slang  or  other  objectionable  expressions,  will 
be  suppressed.  The  permission  to  write  or  receive  letters  is  given 
to  the  convicts  for  the  purpose  of  enabling  them  to  keep  up  a  con- 
nection with  their  respectable  friends,  and  not  that  they  may  hear 
the  news  of  the  day.  Inquiries  will  be  made  as  to  the  character  of 
persons  with  whom  convicts  correspond,  and  if  the  result  is  not 
satisfactory  the  correspondence  will  be  stopped. 

"  All  letters  are  read  by  the  Governor  or  chaplain,  and  must  be 
legally  written,  and  not  crossed. 

"  Neither  clothes,  money,  nor  any  other  articles  are  allowed  to 
be  received  at  the  prison  for  the  use  of  convicts,  except  though  the 
Governor.  Persons  attempting  otherwise  to  introduce  any  article 
to  or  for  a  convict  are  liable  to  fine  or  imprisonment,  and  the  con- 
vict is  liable  to  be  severely  punished. 

"  Neither  money  nor  stamps  must  be  inclosed,  as  they  will  not 
be  received. 

"No  visits  allowed  on  Sundays. 

"  The  convict's  writing  to  be  confined  to  the  ruled  lines  of  these 
two  pages.     In  writing  to  the  convict  direct  to  No.  5364." 

The  5364  is  in  writing.  Then  there  is,  with  several  other  brands, 
the  autograph  of  "  George  Clifton,"  without  which  the  letter  could 
not  pass  out  of  prison ;  and,  finally,  here  is  the  letter  itself,  which 
you  may  have  the  curiosity  to  read  in  order  to  see  what  kind  of  a 
thing  a  convict's  letter  is : — 

"  August  26,  1866. 

"  My  Love —  I  am  in  doubt  whether*k  is  better  to  scold  you,  or 
to  coax  you  into  sending  me  what  I  desire  from  you  at  present,  and 
what  I  have  been  disappointed  in  getting.  Scolding  might  be  the  best 


158  0: *  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

if  you  were  as  much  afraid  of  my  voice  now  as  before,  but  as  possibly 
you  would  place  the  proper  value  on  my  growling  at  you  from  my  cage, 
I  had  better  give  it  up  and  see  what  I  can  do  the  other  way.  Then, 
as  it  was  partly  by  scolding  I  came  into  the  happy  possession  of  you 
(unhappily  for  you  now),  I  would  like  to  continue  it,  but,  perhaps, 
you  are  a  much  wiser  and  sadder  woman  than  you  were  two  years 
ago,  and  not  so  easily  frightened.  I  will  not  scold  you,  Mollis.  I 
fear  I  am  not  a  good  hand  at  coaxing,  so  I  will  only  ask  you  coldly, 
though  lovingly  ask  you,  to  send  me  a  very,  very  long,  long,  letter 
— six,  ten,  twenty  sheets  of  paper,  what  to  you  !  You  often  gave 
me  so  much  when  I  was  not  in  so  much  want.  What  matter  if  they 
must  necessarily  be  sorrow-laden.  I  have  accompanied  you  in 
sunny  hours,  and  cannot  I  have  your  company  when  the  rain  is  fall- 
ing fast.  No  political  news,  all  about  yourself — how  you  met  the 
world  since,  and  particularly  when  you  went  to  Carbery.  Who 
were  kind  to  you  and  who  were  cold  to  you,  &c.  Did  the  children 
realize  their  position  ?  did  they  say  anything  of  me  ?  what  hap- 
pened you  every  day,  hour,  and  minute  ?  for  in  so  much  of  your 
life  am  I  interested.  If  you  say  you  have  nothing  to  write  a  long 
letter  about,  I  say  write  about  nothing  and  that  will  be  something  to 
me.  What  can  I  lose,  or  what  can  you  if  your  letter  be  read  by 
others  ?  The  governor  of  the  prison  must  read  it,  but  if  it  gives  no 
political  information  or  bright  expectation,  it  might  be  deemed 
of  little  interest  to  any  other  authority.  How  many,  many  things  I 
had  to  say  which  I  forgot,  and  many  more,  as  you  heard  the  chief 
warder  say,  I  would  not  be  allowed  to  speak  of,  all  too  many  in  the 
short  space  of  half-an-hour.  When  you  left  I  felt  I  had  relieved 
myself  very  little  of  my  burthen,  and  then  it  grew  heavier.  A  little 
punishment  awaited  me  that  day,  and  I  thought  I  was  being  taken 
to  receive  it  when  you  took  me  by  surprise.  I  was — to  give  you  a 
very  vicious  simile — stricken  somehow  as  a  bird  is  by  the  gaze  of  a 
serpent.  Thatfs  certainly  more  like  scolding  than  coaxing.  Well, 
anyway,  Mollis,  I  was  only  fascinated  by  you,  exclusive  of  the  baby. 
All  you  said  and  all  I  forgot  to  say  came  before  me  when  you  were 
gone.  I  did  not  ask  about  our  fifth  son.  I  must  needs  speak  of  him 
in  the  fifth  person,  lest  the  mention  of  his  name  might  interfere  with 
the  tranmission  of  this.  You  know  the  record  of  it  in  my  account 
book  was  used  to  my  prejudice  by  the  judge.  Regarding  the  four 
eldest,  it  is  not  pleasant  that  your  father  has  the  keeping  of  them 
when  he  has  plenty  company  of  his  own ;  but  if  my  brothers  or 
mother  sent  money  for  them  I  would  rather  they  would  remain  with 
him  for  a  while  than  be  separated.  I  often  applied  for  leave  to  write 
to  my  mother — she  might  die  any  day,  and  then  I'd  feel  so  sorry  that 
she  did  die ;  perhaps  thinking  she  was  forgotten  by  me.  [  will 
go  to  the  Governor  to-morrow  again,  and  if  successful  will  enclose 
a  note  for  her,  also  one  for  the  children.  You  said  some  one  was 
going  to  take  one  of  them,  and  Miss  O'Dowd,  the  lady  of  the  curls, 
another.     Ned  strove  to  make  you  jealous  one  time  by  telling  you  I 


O  ''Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life.  1 59 

looked  at  those  carls,  because  he  is  a  jealous  dog  himself.  T  forgot 
to  ask  you  about  him,  and  if  John  had  been  ejected  out  of 
Coolavin,  or  if  his  brother  Andy  abandoned,  as  I  advised  him,  the 
prosecution  against  Finn  the  agent.  I  am  allowed  to  write  now  as 
a  letter  would  be  due  to  me  if  I  remained  the  usual  time  in  Penton- 
ville.  I  might  have  had  two  visits  there  for  my  good  conduct, 
which  good  conduct  I  was  not  good  enough  to  have  here.  I  had 
the  misfortune  to  incur  prison  discipline  punishment  for  the  first 
time,  twice  the  week  of  your  visit.  Such  is  tolerably  supportable 
and  preferable  to  punishment  by  harsh  words.  I  often  expressed  a 
preference  for  it  if  I  violated  a  rule,  but  never  got  it  till  then.  It  is 
the  duty  of  an  officer  to  speak  to,  and  bring  a  prisoner  to  order,  and 
the  prisoner's  duty  to  be  silent  or  respectful ;  but  if  anything  is 
said  to  which  an  officer  cannot  reply,  he  may  end  by  saying — '  You 
are  insolent,'  impertinent,'  or  worse.  I  offended  and  I  got  punished, 
which  entails  forfeiture  of  all  privileges ;  but  the  Governor  is  pleased 
to  restore  them  to  me  again,  as  he  has  changed  the  officers  and 
considers  I  have  got  into  a  better  disposition  and  do  more  work, 
He  tells  me  he  answers  letters  of  inquiry  from  you  as  to  my 
health  ;  this,  he  need  not  have  done — any  kindness  to  you  from  any 
one,  I  think  more  of  than  anything  regarding  myself.  You  ought 
to  keep  a  record  of  such  things  for  me,  that  they  may  appear  before 
me  if  I  ever  live  again.  You  see  that  though  my  life  is  forfeited  to 
the  laws,  I  cannot  banish  'hope,  that  parasite  of  woe.'  As  regards 
my  general  health,  I  believe  it  has  been  good  save  what  I  told  you 
about  my  eves.  I  h  ,d  two  fits.  I  conquered  the  first.  I  got  it  by 
my  being  deprived  of  flannels  the  2 2d  December.  I  shivered  it  off, 
together  with  any  expectations  I  had  of  fair  treatment.  This  day 
fortnight  war  foggy ;  I  arose  next  morning  with  sore  throat.  I  went 
to  the  doctor,  he  could  not  see  what  I  felt,  and  I  have  been  trying 
to  get  the  better  of  a  severe  cold  since ;  I  think  I'll  succeed.  Write 
yourself,  and  pu  one  from  each  of  the  children  with  your  own — 
their  own  handwriting  and  dictation  that  I  may  see  them  naturally. 
If  money  be  contributed  by  Itishmen  for  the  maintenance  of  the  fami- 
lies of  the  men  imprisoned  I  am  not  so  proud  as  to  feel  any  pain  of 
mind  that  mine  are  to  be  so  cared  for,  but  I  would  fling  a  contribu- 
tion in  the  face  of  anyone  who  would  tender  it  as  charity.  You 
are  one  of  the  trustees  of  money  now,  and  I  refer  to  this  as  I  am 
anxious  that  when  you  are  withdrawing  from  such  trusteeship,  you 
will  be  able  to  have  your  accounts  satisfactorily  shown.  Our  ene- 
mies always  make  money  a  handle  to  hurl  slander. 

"  The  Governor  says,  as  you  had  a  visiting  ticket  from  the  State 
Secretary,  yon  might  try  again.  I  would  rather  you  would  get 
liberty  to  write  oftener.  If  you  could  get  liberty  for  me  to  state 
all  regarding  my  trial,  'twould  be  well.  Our  Catholics  here  are 
banned  too ;  perhaps  'tis  only  reasonable  that  Irishmen  should  re- 
nounce the  crimes  for  which  they  are  made  English  convicts  before 
they  are  allowed  sacraments  by  Anglo-Roman  priests.     I  asked  to 


160  C  Donovan  Rosso*  s  Prison  Life. 

be  allowed  to  absent  myself  from  priest's  services.  Refused.  You 
wrote  a  defensive  letter  after  my  trial;  you  used  the  word  '  charity' 
for  the  fund ;  some  were  hurt.  Do  you  write  to  Mrs.  Keane  and 
Mrs.  Duggan,  Ballincollig  ?  You  ought.  Have  you  anyone  to 
rock  the  cradle  while  you  write  ? — Yours,  love,  ever  fondly  and 
faithfully, 

"  Jer.  O'Donovan  Rossa." 

Some  readers  of  this  letter  may  wonder  at  my  publishing  that  I 
applied  for  permission  to  absent  myself  from  the  priest's  service. 
Indeed  a  few  of  my  friends  suggest  that  it  may  not  be  "  prudent " 
to  publish  it ;  but  I  never  care  to  act  the  hypocrite.  I  felt  so  indig- 
nant at  finding  those  English  priests  persecuting  our  Catholics 
inside  the  prison  walls,  that  I  thought  I  would  show  them  what  I 
thought  of  their  work. 

I  knew  if  I  were  allowed  to  absent  myself  from  service  the  priest 
would  call  upon  me  for  an  explanation,  and  I  would  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  giving  him  a  bit  of  my  mind.  My  application  was  refused. 
It  stands  on  record  on  the  books  of  the  prison,  and  may  be  exhumed 
at  some  future  day  to  show  what  a  refractory  character  I  was.  It 
certainly  would  have  been  brought  forward  had  I  succumbed  to  the 
prison  discipline,  and  had  any  question  been  raised  about  my  ill- 
treatment  at  a  coroner's  inquest. 

After  three  or  four  weeks  I  got  a  reply  from  my  wife.  She 
asked  me  some  questions  about  monetary  matters,  and  she  wrote 
a  special  letter  to  the  Governor  asking  him  to  allow  me  to  answer 
them.  He  sent  for  me,  and  said  he  could  not  allow  me  write,  but 
if  I  wrote  the  answers  to  the  questions  on  a  slate,  and  sent  it  to 
him,  he  would  have  them  copied  and  sent  off.  I  did  so,  and,  on 
asking  him  a  month  afterwards  if  they  were  transmitted,  "  No," 
said  he,  "  I  could  not  be  sending  your  love  letters  to  your  wife ; 
besides,  it  would  lessen  your  punishment."  I  went  back  to  my  cell, 
and  determined  that,  right  or  wrong,  by  fair  play  or  by  foul,  I 
would  never  stop  until  I  found  some  means  of  reaching  the  world, 
and  getting  out  an  account  of  our  treatment.  I  became  very  civil 
to  the  warders  who  had  charge  of  our  party,  in  the  hope  that  I 
could  get  so  far  into  their  favor  as  to  give  me  the  appointment  of 
going  to  the  well  for  water,  and  going  to  the  gravel  pit  for  gravel, 
which  those  who  were  making  the  altar  wanted  to  smoothen  the 
table.  I  tried  to  make  myself  humorous,  and  to  make  myself  every- 
thing that  was  necessary  to  my  purpose,  and  I  succeeded  in  the  long 
run. 

One  of  the  warders  accompanied  me  always  to  the  well  and  to 
the  gravel  pit.  These  places  were  not  within  view  of  the  Gover- 
nor's window.  Other  warders  would  come  there  with  other  pris- 
oners. The  officials  seemed  as  anxious  to  have  a  word  with  one 
another  as  the  prisoners.  They  chatted  away  on  their  own  subjects, 
and  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  whispering  what  I  wanted  to  my 


0' *  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  161 

chums.  I  was  promised  writing  material  and  conveyance  for  what 
I  wrote,  and  I  became  the  funniest  fellow  in  the  world  to  my 
warders. 

Just  at  the  same  time  we  fell  in  at  chapel  with  a  good  fellow 
named  Lynch;  he  was  a  Francis  street  Dublin  man,  but  sentenced 
in  Bolton  for  seven  years.  He  gave  us  writing  material,  and  I 
went  to  work  to  break  the  law  for  the  first  time  by  writing  a 
"  surreptitious  letter. " 

Lynch  told  us  he  could  get  this  conveyed  to  the  outer 
world  lor  three  pounds,  and  that  out  of  the  sum  we  could  get  ten 
ehilings'  worth  of  tobacco  imported.  It  was  such  a  novel  thing  to 
get  tobacco  here,  and  as  some  of  my  friends  desired  to  have  a  taste 
of  it,  I  gave  the  order  for  it,  with  an  order  on  my  wife  for  three 
pounds.  But  as  I  feared  that  letters  addressed  to  "  Mrs.  O'Donovan 
Rossa  "  would  be  opened  in  the  post  office,  I  directed  this  one  to  the 
mother  of  Michael  Moore,  and  on  the  cover  of  the  envelope  I  wrote 
in  very  small  writing  the  words  "  For  Mrs.  O'D."  Michael  Moore 
kept  watch  for  me  during  the  dinner  hours  while  I  wrote.  He 
lay  down  on  the  floor  of  his  cell,  and  under  his  door  there  was 
as  much  space  as  would  enable  him  to  see  through  the  hall.  Some- 
times the  slippered  officer  who  kept  watch  outside  would  go  upstairs 
to  have  his  peep  at  those  who  were  in  the  cells  above  us.  That  was 
my  time  for  scribbling,  but  as  Moore  would  see  the  jailer  coming 
down  he'd  give  me  a  signal  and  I'd  stop. 

I  kept  watch  for  Moore  for  many  hours  in  a  similar  position,  and 
while  he  was  engaged  in  work  far  more  dangerous  than  writing 
"  surreptitious  "  letters.  He  was  trying  to  break  a  hole  in  the  wall 
of  his  cell  large  enough  to  admit  him  into  the  yard,  through  which 
hole  he  and  I  meditated  an  escape.  Hugh  Brophy  and  Martin 
Hanley  Carey  were  in  the  two  next  cells,  and  if  Mike  found  he 
was  able  to  do  his  work,  they  were  to  operate  about  the  place  where 
the  iron  partition  divided  their  cells,  and  the  four  of  us  were  to 
fight  our  way.  We  did  not  intend  any  harm  to  man  or  mortal,  but 
after  we  made  our  way  into  the  yard  we  had  agreed  if  any  man 
came  upon  us  before  we  had  scaled  the  wall  by  the  aid  of  sheets, 
&c,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  throttle  him  into  quietness  in 
case  we  could  not  avoid  his  notice  otherwise.  Michael  Moore  stole 
— yes — the  thief  actually  stole  a  small  steel  chisel  out  of  our  tool 
box  on  the  works,  and  the  thief  was  the  more  criminal  inasmuch  as 
he  was  the  prisoner  most  trusted  with  the  distribution  and  collec- 
tion of  the  implements.  I  don't  know  where  he  hid  the  chisel  when 
he  was  bringing  it  into  his  cell ;  but  I  know  when  he  had  it  there 
he  gave  me  the  signal  to  lie  down  on  the  flags  and  keep  my 
eye  on  the  hall.  I  heard  him  scraping  away  for  an  hour,  at  the  end 
of  which  time  he  gave  another  signal  to  get  up,  and  then  through 
the  little  slit  that  was  in  the  partition  he  whispered  to  me  that  he 
thought  the  work  would  be  all  right ;  he  had  made  a  hole  large 
enough  already  to  hide  the  chisel  j  then  he  shut  it  up  and  plastered 


162  0  'Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

the  surface  with  the  whiting  he  had  for  brightening  his  tins.  The 
color  was  very  much  like  the  whitewash  on  the  walls,  and  no  dis- 
tinction could  be  discerned  when  standing  at  the  door,  as  he  had 
shaded  the  spot  by  the  arrangement  of  some  of  his  cell  furniture. 
Brophy,  Carey,  I,  and  a  few  others  supplied  him  with  all  the 
whiting;  we  got,  and  day  after  day  for  a  fortnight  he  worked 
at  the  hole  in  the  wall,  and  I  kept  my  ear  on  the  floor  and  my  eye 
to  the  stairs.  He  did  not,  like  Baron  Trenck,  blow  away  the  rubbish 
through  a  quill,  but  he  tied  it  up  in  the  tail  of  his  shirt  and  made 
away  with  it  in  the  quarry.  At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  he  was  half- 
way through  the  wall  and  we  were  half  way  to  freedom,  for  of 
course  it  never  entered  our  heads  to  fail  once  we  got  out ;  we  were 
to  die  game  rather  than  come  back  to  our  cells  again.  But,  woe  of 
woes  !  as  my  ear  was  to  the  flag  I  heard  Mike  give  a  groan.  I  gave 
a  cough,  and  he  answered  it  by  the  signal  to  come  to  the  slit  in  the 
partition.  His  agonized  whisper  was — "  O  God  !  Rossa,  'tis  all  np 
with  us ;  the  stones  in  the  middle  of  the  wall  are  all  fastened  to  one 
another  by  stout  links  of  iron,  and  it  is  impossible  to  remove  these ; 
we  must  give  it  up  ;  lie  down  again  until  I  shut  the  hole,"  and  with 
a  bronach  heart  I  took  my  recumbent  position. 

Hugh  Brophy  and  I  had  another  scheme  of  escape  a  short  time 
before  thisa  As  we  quarried  a  large  piece  of  rock  one  day  we  dis- 
covered a  large  hole  under  it,  which  appeared  to  be  a  cave.  It 
escaped  the  officers'  detection,  and  as  the  stone  was  removed  we 
covered  the  hole.  We  took  five  or  six  into  our  confidence,  who 
were  to  keep  the  jailers  engaged  one  day  while  we  examined  the 
discovery.  We  found  it  was  a  fissure  between  the  rocks,  and  did 
not  extend  far,  and  would  do  no  more  than  answer  for  a  hiding 
place.  For  three  or  four  days  after,  our  friends  were  sparing  their 
bread  and  brin^ins;  it  to  hide  in  the  hole  till  there  was  sufficient  there 
to  support  Hugh  and  me  for  two  or  three  days.  We  were  to  enter, 
the  others  were  to  cover  us  up  and  make  the  floor  of  the  quarry 
just  the  same  as  all  around,  leaving  a  few  air-holes,  which  could  not 
be  detected  except  by  the  closest  search.  We  were  to  have  a  few 
ropes  stolen  from  the  tool-box,  and  if  we  escaped  detection  for  a  few 
days,  the  friends  were  to  whisper  through  the  air-holes  that  it  was 
supposed  we  had  got  into  the  country ;  then  we  were  to  emerge  at 
night  and  make  a  raft ;  launch  it  on  the  sea  below,  paddle  our  canoe 
across  the  bay  to  the  land,  which  appeared  about  three  miles  distant. 
When  the  day  came  that  we  were  to  enter  the  cave  we  found  that 
two  of  us  could  not  get  room  in  it  by  any  kind  of  stuffing,  and  we 
had  to  pronounce  the  project  hopeless.  The  hole  was  open,  and  we 
had  not  time  to  shut  it  before  we  saw  the  Governor  approaching 
from  the  prison  and  coming  on  the  path  towards  us.  Quick  as 
thought  I  pulled  up  a  leg  of  my  trousers,  took  a  rough  stone  and 
rubbed  it  hard  along  the  calf  from  the  knee  to  the  ankle ;  went  into 
the  hole,  and  gave  a  roar  that  shook  the  quarry.  The  little  bird 
that  sat  hatching,  her  eggs  in  a  hole  a  few  yards  from  us  ran  out  of 


O' 'Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life.  163 

her  nest.  The  boys  and  the  officers  ran  towards  me,  and  as  the 
Governor  came  up  he  asked,  "  Why  is  Rossa  sitting  there  ?  "  "  It 
seems,  sir,"  said  Gunning,  "  his  leg  got  into  that  hole  and  got 
scratched  a  little."  I  was  taking  off  my  boot,  and  I  gave  a  black 
look  at  both  of  them,  as  much  as  to  say  is  that  all  the  pity  you  have 
for  me  after  escaping  with  my  life  ? 

The  letter  winch  I  spoke  of  as  having  written  to  my  wife  came 
t*>  be  delivered,  and  I  had  my  plans  laid  to  pass  it  to  Lynch  at 
chapel  one  Sunday  morning,  but  the  fir>.t  attempt  of  mine  to  reach 
the  world  "  surreptitiously  "  turned  out  to  be  a  failure,  and  brought 
upon  me  an  endless  amount  of  punishment.  When  I  took  my 
position  in  the  chapel  I  found  Lynch  was  two  seats  behind  me  and 
not  at  my  side  of  the  stool. 

I  passed  the  paper  to  Patrick  Dunne,  who  was  transported  on  a 
charge  of  attempting  to  swear  in  soldier*  on  the  Pigeon-house-road, 
Dublin.  He  used  to  do  his  bit  of  prison  life  in  as  jolly  a  spirit  as 
possible,  and  in  doing  anything  else  that  was  not  in  perfect  harmony 
with  the  rules  and  regulations,  he  did  it  in  as  sly  a  way  as  it  could 
be  done.  But  on  this  occasion  a  principal  officer,  who  was  on  watch 
at  the  back  of  the  congregation,  saw  some  movement  on  the  part 
of  Lynch,  and  on  leaving  the  chapel,  as  I  afterwards  heard,  he  was 
arrested  and  stripped.  I  was  in  my  cell  that  Sunday  evening,  the 
door  was  opened  about  five  o'clock,  and  the  warder  said  "  Com.e 
on."  On  I  went  towards  the  dark  cells,  and  looking  behind  me  as 
I  was  entering,  I  saw  Lynch  folio  wing  in  charge  of  another  officer. 
I  had  to  strip  to  the  buff;  my  clothes  were  searched  inch  by  inch, 
and  seam  by  seam,  myself  was  then  searched,  nothing  was  found 
on  me,  and  I  remained  in  suspense  till  twelve  o'clock  next  day, 
when  I  was  taken  in  deshabille  before  the  Governor. 

"  You  are  charged  with  endeavoring  to  get  a  letter  out  of  prison 
surreptitiously  to  the  wife  of  another  prisoner.  What  have  you  to 
say  ?  " 

"  The  charge  is  not  properly  recorded." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  dictate  to  me  how  I  am  to  discharge  my 
duties." 

"  I  do  not,  but  I  mean  to  say  that  the  charge,  as  you  have  it 
recorded  on  the  books,  is  a  false  one." 

"  Do  you  deny  the  writing  ?  "  (holding  up  the  letter.) 

"  I  admit  or  deny  nothing,  but  I  ask  you  to  take  down  what  I 
have  said." 

Governor  (motioning  to  the  officers) — "Take  him  away,  and  I'll 
postpone  his  case  till  I  hear  from  the  Board  of  Directors." 

And  the  Board  of  Directors  being  heard  from,  I  was  sentenced 
to  three  days  on  bread  and  water,  and  fined  as  many  marks  as 
would  add  a  few  months  to  my  imprisonment. 

At  work  on  the  quarries  again  I  learned  from  Michael  Moore,  one 
afternoon,  that  the  Governor  had  been  serious  when  he  charged  me 
with  "writing  to  the  wife  of  another  prisoner,"  and  whether  he 


164  O' Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Life. 

believed  or  not  I  was  holding  a  love  intrigue  with  the  wife  of 
Moore,  he  endeavored  to  make  others  believe  it.  I  first  looked 
upon  the  matter  as  a  joke,  but  when  I  came  to  have  it  corrected 
on  the  prison  books,  lest  it  might  remain  on  record  and  be 
brought  forward  at  some  time  to  defame  my  character — for  this  is 
a  trick  that  England  plays  on  dead  enemies — I  found  the 
thing  turned  out  to  be  no  joke  at  all  to  me,  unless  a  hard  bed  at 
night,  and  starvation  in  solitary  confinement  by  day,  be  considered 
an  agreeable  kind  of  pastime. 

Michael  Moore  made  application  to  the  Governor  to  be  allowed 
to  write  to  his  wife,  and  the  Governor  asked  him  if  he  knew  that 
there  was  another  man  in  the  prison  in  communication  with  her. 

"  What?"  said  Moore,  in  astonishment. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  Governor,  "  I  would  not  have  mentioned  the 
matter  to  you  only  I  thought  you  knew  something  about  it." 

The  prisoner  insisted  on  his  right  to  know  all,  and  the  Governor 
told  him  I  had  been  detected  in  sending  a  letter  surreptitiously 
to  his  wife.  Moore  affected  the  greatest  indignation,  and  kept  it 
up  till  he  came  out  to  work,  and  demanded  an  explanation  from 
me.  As  we  were  at  this  time  forbidden  to  speak,  and  as  the  neces- 
sity for  explaining  away  the  charge  seemed  paramount  to  the 
necessity  of  maintaining  silence,  I,  regardless  of  the  jailer's 
admonition,  kept  talking  to  Moore,  and  the  more  I  talked  the  more 
Moore  grew  dissatisfied.  In  this  manner  we  cheated  the  English 
Government  out  of  an  evening  s  conversation.  When  the  officers 
went  to  headquarters  that  evening  they  reported  that  Moore  and 
Rossa  had  like  to  have  a  fight  on  the  works,  and  I  demanded  to  be 
allowed  to  see  the  Governor  next  day,  to  know  why  he  had  been 
telling  fasehoods  of  me  to  my  fellow-prisoners.  Next  day  came, 
and  I  was  taken  to  the  door  of  the  judgment  chamber.  I  found 
Mr.  Luby,  Con  Keane,  Thomas  Duggan,  and  three  or  four  others 
waiting  for  a  hearing.  I  was  called  in  first,  and  asked  the  Governor 
by  what  authority  he  told  Mr.  Moore  that  I  was  detected  in  cor- 
respondence with  his  wife,  and  he  told  me  by  the  authority  of  a 
letter  he  had  in  his  possession. 

"  Cannot  you  look  at  that  letter,  and  see  on  the  corner  of  the 
envelope  the  words — 'For  Mrs.  O'D?'  Cannot  you  also  see  that 
it  is  addressed  to  Mrs.  Mary  Moore  ?  Now,  if  you  look  at  your 
books,  and  find  the  record  of  the  letters  Mr.  Moore  has  received 
from  and  written  to  his  wife  and  mother,  you  will  learn  that  his 
wife's  name  is  Kate,  and  that  it  is  his  mother  who  is  called  Mary. 
If  you  read  the  body  of  the  letter  you  will  find  allusion  to  my 
children,  and  Mrs.  Moore  has  no  children.  1  ask  that  you  correct 
this  charge  on  the  books,  and  also  correct  any  erroneous  reports  you 
have  made  regarding  it." 

Governor — "  I'll  do  no  such  thing."  I  believe  all  these  things 
were  subterfuges.  I  am  fully  persuaded  the  letter  was  for  Moore's 
wife,  and  I  told  the  Secretary  of  State  so,  and  I  told  the  Board  of 
"directors  so." 


O' 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  165 

"  Then  you  told  them  what  was  false." 

Here  he  ordered  me  to  be  taken  to  the  cells  ;  the  door  was  opened, 
and  as  the  jailers  were  approaching  me  I  stood,  looking  firmly  at 
him,  and  said — "  You're  a  mean  creature,  and  you've  shown  noth- 
ing but  meanness  in  our  treatment  since  we  came  into  your  hands." 
Then  I  was  laid  hold  of,  and  turned  towards  the  door,  where  I  saw 
my  companions  awaiting  their  call,  and  with  very  little  ceremony 
I  was  shoved  through  the  hall  and  tossed  into  a  darkened  cell. 

Next  day  at  twelve  o'clock,  I  was  charged  with  gross  insolence 
to  the  Governor,  calling  him  "  a  mean  man,"  and  ever  so  many 
etceteras.  What  had  I  to  say  ?  "  Governor,  you  have  been 
slandering  me,  and  placing  on  record  charges  against  me  in 
Government  offices,  false  charges  which  may  be  exhumed  for  the 
defamation  of  my  character  when  I  am  dead.  I  suppose  you  can  do 
what  you  please  with  me  while  I  am  living,  but  your  torture  should 
end  there." 

Governor — "  I  did  not,  until  I  got  back  your  letter  yesterday, 
see  the  words  '  for  Mrs.  O'D  '  on  the  corner  of  the  letter ;  but  they 
were  written  so  small  that  no  one  could  see  them  unless  his  atten- 
tion was  particularly  directed  to  them.  If  you  had  acted  respect- 
fully when  coming  before  me,  and  given  your  answers  in  a  proper 
manner,  you  would  have  fared  differently.  I  will  not  punish  you 
now  further  than  fining  you  forty-two  marks.  That  will  do  "  (ad- 
dressing the  officers  to  remove  me). 

"  Governor,  won't  you  correct  the  charge  on  the  books  and  your 
report  to  the  Secretary  of  State  ?  " 

"  You  are  getting  off  very  easily." 
"  Will  you  give  me  permission  to  write  to  the  Secretary  of  State 
on  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  do  so.     You  can  see  the  Director." 

"  Then  I  will  thank  you  to  put  my  name  down  to  see  the  Director 
when  he  comes." 

"Granted." 

This  was  all  very  well.  I  went  to  work,  and  felt  sure  when  the 
Director  came  I  could  satisfy  him  the  letter  was  written  to  my  wife, 
and  that  he  would  correct  the  erroneous  reports  made  regarding  it, 
but  there  are  many  tricks  in  trade,  and  the  Governor  of  a  convict 
prison  is  not  without  a  few  in  his  line  of  business.  The  day  before 
the  Director  came  I  was  reported  for  talking  while  at  work,  and  the 
day  he  was  in  the  prison  I  was  on  bread  and  water,  and,  being 
under  punishment,  I  had  forfeited  my  privilege  of  making  my  com- 
plaint to  the  gentleman.  It  is  a  part  of  his  duty  to  visit  every 
prisoner  in  the  cells ;  my  door  was  opened,  I  stood  to  attention, 
and  seeing  Mr.  Fagan  standing  outside  I  proceeded  to  tell  my  story. 
I  was  told  I  was  forbidden  from  making  any  complaint  while  under 
punishment,  and  that  the  next  time  the  Director  would  come  he 
would,  if  I  was  in  good  standing,  go  into  my  case.  But  the  next 
time  he  came  I  was  in  punishment  too,  and  the  time  after  and  every. 


166  O"*  Donovan  Rosscv's  Prison  Life, 

time  till  I  left  the  prison  of  Portland.  I  knew  Mr.  Fagan  had 
already  examined  into  the  charge  of  intrigue,  and  that  he  had  seen 
it  was  a  piece  of  bungling  on  the  part  of  the  Governor,  and  he  cer- 
tainly allowed  the  Governor  to  have  recourse  to  the  trick  of  having 
me  on  bread  and  water  every  time  he  visited  the  prison,  so  as  to 
prevent  him  from  making  an  official  report.  When  this  light 
dawned  0.1  me  I  made  all  possible  efforts  to  communicate  "sur- 
reptitiously "  with  the  outer  world,  and  after  various  attempts, 
failures,  subterfuges,  and  punishments,  succeeded. 

Lynch,  in  whose  possession  my  letter  was  found,  got  three  days 
on  bread  and  water,  twenty-five  days  on  penal  class  diet,  and  lost 
three  months  of  the  remission  he  had  previously  earned.  He  was 
to  leave  the  prison  a  few  months  after  he  had  the  misfortune  of 
falling  in  with  me;  but  I  met  him  twelve  months  afterwards  in 
Millbank,  and  he  told  me  they  kept  reporting  him  time  after 
time  until  they  took  away  every  day  he  had  earned,  and  he  had  to 
work  out  his  whole  term  of  seven  years.  When  he  came  to  chapel 
after  the  twenty-eight  days  on  bread  and  water  he  passed  me 
another  lead  pencil,  and  told  me,  in  a  note  the  package  contained, 
that  he'd  have  paper,  envelopes,  a  writing  pen,  and  an  ink  bottle  for 
me  on  next  Sunday. 

Some  one  employed  on  the  works  had  heard  of  his  being  in 
communication  with  me,  and  of  his  suffering  punishment  without 
"squealing"  upon  the  person  who  furnished  the  writing  material, 
and  some  one  else  made  an  offer  to  him  to  supply  the  needful  and 
act  as  postman  for  a  consideration,  which  consideration  I  of  course 
readily  consented  to  have  provided.  Suuday  came ;  I  was  on  the 
look-out,  and  the  writing  material  came  safely  into  my  possession. 
I  had  two  sheets  of  paper,  two  envelopes,  and  a  darling  little  glass 
ink  bottle,  three  inches  long  and  one  inch  in  diameter. 

When  I  entered  my  cell  and  opened  my  parcel  I  was  delighted ; 
but  the  joy  was  not  of  long  duration,,  for  the  fear  of  detection  soon 
chased  it  away,  as  the  question  arose,  "  Where  in  the  world  am  I  to 
hide  them  ?  "  English  convicts  are  allowed  to  wear  an  article  of 
clothing  called  a  shirt ;  it  has,  as  I  may  say,  two  tails,  and  in  the 
front  one  of  these  I  tied  my  treasure.  The  hour  for  exercise  came, 
and  I  chose  for  my  comrade  on  this  occasion  Jerry  O'Donovan,  of 
Blarney,  as  I  intended  to  make  him  my  storekeeper  and  general 
agent  in  the  nefarious  business  I  had  on  hand.  Jerry  had  one  of  the 
best  characters  ;  he  was  pretty  free  from  "reports,"  and  the  warders 
considered  him  very  quiet  and  guileless.  Not  alone  was  he  from 
Blarney,  but  he  had  blarney,  with  all  its  rich  raciness,  on  his 
tongue  ;  in  his  manner  that  openness  and  pride  of  being  Irish,  and 
working  for  Ireland,  characteristic  of  the  true  Irish  peasant ;  and  in 
his  heart  that  love  of  faith  and  freedom,  with  hatred  of  those  who 
would  trample  on  t-ither,  which  is  "  the  salt  of  our  soil,"  and,  indeed, 
the  salt  of  any  soil. 

Faith  and  Freedom,  did  I  say?  yes$  but  in  Jerry's  case,  or  in 


0' 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  167 

those  who  had  to  deal  with  Jerry's  case,  the  two  were  made  to 
clash,  and  the  pursuit  of  freedom,  as  Jerry  pursued  it,  was  antagon- 
istic to  his  profession  of  faith  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Zanetti  professed  or 
propounded  it.  The  priest  was  for  a  long  time  urging  the  prisoner 
to  give  up  the  oath  he  had  sworn  to  free  Ireland,  and  to  return  to 
the  fold  ;  Jerry  could  not  see  thatvhis  renunciation  of  his  duty  to 
poor  old  Ireland  was  at  all  necessary  to  his  salvation,  and  refusing 
to  yield  to  the  arguments  and  solicitations  of  the  holy  father,  the 
rev.  gentleman  with  his  knuckles  tapped  him  on  the  forehead  three 
times,  saying — "  It  is  in,  in,  in  there  you  have  the  devil  in  you." 
Some  people  may  consider  this  very  profane — not  of  me  but  of  the 
priest — but  let  them  not  mind  it ;  he  was  an  Englishman,  the  son  of 
an  Italian,  and  had  not  a  drop  of  Irish  blood  in  his  veins.  I  can 
only  laugh  at  the  ridiculous  nonsense  of  such  people  when  they 
preach  loyalty  to  England,  and  threaten  damnation  because  we  are 
not  loyal.  I  can  listen  to  an  Iiish  priest,  for  he  is  supposed  to  have 
as  much  interest  in  the  country  as  I  have ;  but  when  an  English 
priest  comes  forward  to  denounce  me  for  undertaking  any  danger 
or  sacrifice  that  may  be  between  me  and  Ireland's  independence,  I 
care  very  little  for  what  he  says.  I  have  learned  long  ago  what 
some  of  my  countrymen  seem  to  want  to  learn  yet,  that  every 
priest  is  not  an  Irishman.  No  man  can  find  his  way  to  my  heart 
more  easily  than  the  good  priest,  the  soggarth  aroon,  who  silently 
prays,  for  he  cannot  publicly  speak  for  the  overthrow  of  English 
rule  in  Ireland,  and  who,  if  Ave  had  a  fight  on  our  native  soil,  would 
obey  the  voice  of  God,  as  many  an  Irish  priest  would,  calling  upon 
him  through  his  feelings  to  rush  to  the  battle's  front  rather  than  the 
voice  of  Cullens  or  Cardinals  calling  upon  him  to  denounce  the 
"  rebels  "  in  the  name  of  "  the  Church."  To  show  how  accommo- 
dating our  Father  Zanetti  was  to  the  Government,  and  how  h<*  could 
reconcile  the  requirements  of  the  State  with  the  obligations  of  the 
Church,  I  will  quote  a  little  from  his  evidence  before  the  Commis- 
sion of  Inquiry.  The  Commissioners,  thinking  it  would,  perhaps, 
work  a  greater  reformation  on  prisoners  to  allow  them  to  go  to 
church  than  to  keep  them  from  it  while  under  punishment,  ques- 
tioned the  priest  thus : — 

"  Question  No.  13,194 — Do  you  recollect  a  prisoner  of  the  name 
of  Patrick  Ryan,  a  treason-felony  convict,  being  here  ?  I  have  not 
a  distinct  recollection,  my  lord,  of  Patrick  Ryan. 

"  13,194 — He  makes  a  statement  to  us,  and  I  should  like  to  know 
whether  what  he  represents  has  been  brought  under  your  notice  or 
not.  He  says  that  he  was  employed  to  work  the  pump.  He  is 
asked  the  question — '  Did  you  ever  object  to  work  any  one  day  in 
the  week?'  And  his  answer  is — 'I  objected  to  it  once,  sir,  and 
that  was  on  a  Sunday  that  I  was  to  receive  the  Blessed  Sacrament, 
and  the  officer  told  me  I  could  not,  that  it  would  be  better  for  me 
to  work  at  the  pump,  that  it  would  do  me  more  service.'  Do  you 
recollect  hearing  that  there  was  any  difficulty  thrown  in  the  way  of 


168  O^  Donovan  Bosstfs  Prison  Life. 

the  prisoners  receiving  the  Sacraments  in  cases  of  being  employed 
at  work  ?  I  no  not,  my  lord ;  but  now  that  mention  is  made  of  it, 
I  have  some  recollection  of  some  prisoner,  but  who  the  prisoner  was 
I  cannot  recollect — making  a  difficulty  of  working  the  pump  on 
Sunday,  and  stating  an  objection  he  had — but  whether  he  was  going 
to  Communion  or  not  I  cannot  remember.  I  stated  to  the  prisoner 
— I  cannot  remember  who  it  was — that  it  was  a  work  of  necessity ; 
that  the  water  had  to  be  supplied  to  the  prison,  and  that,  conse- 
quently, the  prisoners  had  to  work  on  Sunday,  that  it  was  not  an 
unnecessary  but  a  necessary  work,  and  that,  therefore,  he  should  do 
what  he  was  told  and  should  work  at  the  pump  like  the  rest.  1 
cannot  say  whether  it  was  Ryan  or  not,  but  I  remember  the  question 
distinctly. 

"  13,209 — If  the  authorities  of  the  prison,  without  a  positive 
necessity,  prevent  prisoners  under  punishment  and  infirmary 
patients  from  hearing  Mass  on  Sundays,  are  they  not  only  depriv- 
ing them  of  a  privilege,  but  compelling  them  to  forego  a  duty?  I 
should  not  classify  the  two  together.  I  should  think  it  most  desir- 
able that  prisoners  in  the  infirmary,  who  are  sufficiently  well  to 
attend  the  service  of  the  church,  should  attend  service;  but  with 
respect  to  the  prisoners  that  are  in  punishment,  I  should  consider 
that  the  object  that  the  authorities  had  of  rendering  that  prisoner's 
punishment  more  heavy  would  satisfy  me  in  regard  of  the  obliga- 
tion under  which  he  was  placed. 

"  13,210 — Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  can  justify  the 
depriving  prisoners  of  Mass  as  a  means  of  making  their  punish- 
ment more  heavy  ?  The  authorities  believe  it  is  necessary,  and  1 
accept  their  declaration  that  it  is  necessary  for  the  efficacy  of  the 
punishment,  and,  in  that  point  of  view,  I  think  that  it  is  a  justifi- 
able resource. 

"13,212  (Dr.  Lyons) — Do  you  think  it  desirable  or  necessary 
that  a  change  should  be  made  in  the  disciplinary  arrangement,  so 
as  to  allow  prisoners  under  punishment  and  infirmary  patients  to 
attend  Mass  on  Sundays  ?  I  should  think  it  desirable  if  it  could  be 
effected  without  disparagement  to  the  essential  discipline  of  the 
prison,  to  allow  prisoners  in  the  infirmary  to  attend  Mass,  and  if 
the  authorities  consider  that  to  allow  prisoners  to  go  to  Mass  would 
not  be  a  diminution  of  punishment,  I  should  likewise  desire  that 
they  should  go  to  Mass;  but  I  am  willing  to  accept  their  declara- 
tion that  it  would  be  a  considerable  diminution  of  the  punishment 
of  the  prisoners  to  allow  them  to  go  to  Mass." 
There  is  Father  Zanetti  for  you. 

The  Sunday  I  took  my  hour's  exercise  with  Jerry  O'Donovan,  of 
Blarney,  I  passed  my  writing  material  to  him,  and  made  arrange- 
ments for  its  safe  keeping.  He  was  to  cut  up  the  pencils  in  pieces 
about  an  inch  and  a-half  long,  to  keep  one  bit  on  his  person,  to- 
gether with  a  sheet  of  the  paper,  and  hide  the  rest  on  the  works.  I 
made  up  my  mind  for  detection  a  second  time,  and  made  provision 
for  a  supply  of  pen  and  paper  to  carry  on  the  game  again  after  I 
had  gone  through  my  punishment. 


0* Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  169 

Indeed,  I  made  provision  to  carry  it  on  while  under  punishment, 
for  I  took  the  lead  out  of  one  of  the  pieces  of  pencil  and  breaking 
it  up  into  small  bits,  I  hid  these  in  the  seams  of  my  jacket  and 
trousers.  So  strict  was  the  watch  kept,  upon  me  now,  that  I  had  no 
chance  of  writing  in  my  ordinary  cell  any  hour  between  rising  and 
retiring.  The  "  eye"  seemed  to  be  ever  at  the  spy-hole  during  the 
breakfast  hour,  the  dinner  hour,  and  the  hours  between  six  and 
eight  in  the  evening.  As  I  stretched  on  my  hammock  at  night,  I 
racked  my  brain  for  some  means  of  writing,  and  I  found  two.  One 
was  to  talk  on  the  works  deliberately,  with  the  intention  of  being 
sent  into  the  punishment  cells.  On  entering  these  there  is  a  strict 
search.  You  can  take  no  contraband  article  in  with  you,  and  you 
can  find  nothing  within.  You  are  quite  safe  here,  and,  consequently, 
the  eye  is  not  so  often  on  you  as  elsewhere.  I  thought  that  I  could 
carry  my  bits  of  pencils  in  with  me,  that  I  could  sit  with  my  back 
to  the  door,  and  using  the  sole  of  my  slipper  for  a  table,  write  my 
story  upon  my  closet  paper.  Sitting  in  this  position,  I  was  too  low 
for  the  eye  at  the  spy-hole  to  see  me,  and  if  the  door  was  to  be  un 
locked  by  a  surprise,  I  was  too  lazy,  too  sulky,  or  too  fast  asleep,  to 
get  up  before  I  had  my  pencil  and  paper  stowed  away  in  the  seams 
of  my  clothes.  The  other  plan  was  to  sit  up  in  my  hammock  all 
night,  and  write  away  as  well  as  I  could.  I  had  as  much  light  from 
the  gas  in  the  hall  as  would  enable  me  to  see  the  paper ;  but  then  I 
hadn't  much  stationery,  and  if  I  attempted  to  write  close,  I  might 
write  one  line  over  the  other.  Communicating  my  projects  to  my 
friends,  Martin  Hanley  Carey  told  me  he  had  a  book  in  his  ceil 
which  did  not  belong  to  his  registry.  It  was  a  religious  little 
treatise  called,  "  Think  Well  On't,"  and  it  was  not  even  stamped 
with  the  prison  brand.  Some  one  of  the  officers  left  it  with  him 
by  mistake ;  it  had  large  margins  to  every  leaf,  and  he  said  I  could 
write  as  much  as  I  desired  on  it.  I  took  it  and  gave  Jerry  orders 
to  have  the  pen  and  ink  ready.  But  he  had  been  making  further 
preparations  to  assist  me.  He  showed  me  a  little  tin  article  he  found 
in  the  quarry,  which  he  intended  to  fashion  into  an  ink-bottle. 
I  told  him  it  looked  ^ike  a  leprechaun's  teapot,  and  that  there 
might  be  luck  in  it.  It  would  hold  about  a  thimble  full,  and  before 
evening  he  had  some  of  the  ink  conveyed  into  it  from  the  glass 
bottle.  Taking  it  into  my  cell  that  evening,  and  getting  safely  as 
far  as  bed  hour,  I,  when  the  door  was  locked  for  the  night,  gave 
Jerry  the  signal  to  pass  me  the  writing-pen  through  a  small  hole 
that  we  made  in  the  corrugated  iron  partition  that  divided  us.  I 
commenced  to  write,  and  the  officer  on  guard  commenced  his  parade 
through  the  hall.  He  wore  slippers,  and  everything  was  so  still 
I  could  hear  his  footfall  as  he  approached  my  cell.  I  then  used 
to  lie  back.  If  he  peeped  in  he  could  see  me,  and  if  I  remained 
writing  he  could  hear  the  scratching  of  the  pen  on  the  book.  If  by 
any  mischance  I  made  such  a  noise  as  might  attract  attention,  I 
commenced  to    snore  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  if  no  one  came  I 


170  O  ^  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

arose  to  my  work  again.  Night  after  night  I  continued  my  labors, 
sleeping  during  my  dinner  and  supper  hours.  When  I  commenced 
my  work  I  could  see  little  more  than  the  leaf  I  was  writing  on,  but 
before  I  had  all  finished  my  sight  was  sharp  enough  to  see  that  I 
was  writing  in  straight  lines.  I  don't  know  was  it,  that  like  the 
cat,  I  was  learning  to  see  in  the  dark.  Nature,  perhaps,  had  sym- 
pathy with  me,  and  came  to  my  assistance.  I  used  up  all  the  paper 
I  had,  made  up  my  parcels  with  the  proper  directions  on  them,  and 
consulted  with  Jerry  O'Donovan  and  some  others,  how  we  were  to 
hide  them  until  we  got  an  opportunity  of  passing  them  out.  We 
decided  upon  keeping  them  hid  in  the  wall  of  the  shed  in  which 
those  worked  who  were  making  the  stone  altar,  and  into  which  we 
went  for  shelter  when  it  rained.  I  had  two  letters  written,  and  on 
the  "  Think  Well  On't  "  I  had  copied  from  memory  a  petition  I  was 
after  writing  to  the  Secretary  of  State.  When  some  of  my  friends 
heard  I  was  writing  a  petition,  they  began  to  wonder,  and  were 
on  thorns  to  know  what  I  was  petitioning  for ;  but  I  could  not  tell 
them,  or  tell  myself.  I  am  bound  to  do  my  best  to  clear  myself 
with  you,  and  as  I  am  giving  everything  that  came  across  me,  I 
will  give  a  sample  of  an  Irish  felon's  petition  to  his  English  captors. 
It  was  one  of  the  ways  that  came  into  my  head  to  get  an  ac- 
count of  our  treatment  before  the  public.  A  convict,  if  he  is  a 
well-conducted  one,  has  the  privilege  of  writing  a  petition  every 
year  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  but  after  my  Portland  one,  the 
authorities  were  not  very  willing  to  indulge  me  with  the  privilege; 
in  fact,  they  refused  it  to  me  repeatedly  on  the  grounds  of  my 
being  a  bad  character.  My  idea  was  that  I  would  write  to  the 
Secretary  of  State,  and  that  I  would  manage  also  to  write  a  copy 
surreptitiously  in  the  hope  of  getting  it  out.  In  case  of  failure  I 
had  it  in  my  mind  to  have  it  communicated  to  some  of  the  visitors 
that  I  had  written  an  account  of  our  ill-treatment  to  the  Ministry, 
and  then  some  Irish  member  of  the  English  House  of  Commons 
might  be  able  to  come  at  it  through  the  interpellation  of  Parlia- 
ment. At  the  Commission  of  Inquiry  into  our  ill-treatment  in 
1870  I  called  for  this  memorial  to  refresh  my  memory  and  got  it.  I 
managed  to  transfer  it  to  Captain  John  McClure,  and,  as  we  were 
allowed  pen  and  ink  during  the  Commission,  he  took  a  copy  of  it 
on  waste  paper  the  day  I  was  under  examination.  This  copy  I  suc- 
ceeded in  hiding  till  my  release.  I  brought  it  with  me  to  America, 
and  will  hold  it  with  the  certainty  of  being  able  sell  it  for  a  very 
high  price  a  few  centuries  hence. 

To  the  Hon.  Spencer  Horatio  Walpole,  Sec'y  of  State. — The  pe- 
titon  of  Jer.  O'Donovan  Rossa. 
Humbly  Showeth — That  your  attention  is  solicited  to  the  fol- 
lowing : — In  the  early  part  of  this  year  I  wrote  to  Sir  George  Grey 
requesting  permission  to  state  particulars  connected  with  my  trial 
to  an  English  M.  P.     I  showed  that  instructions  which  I  had   from 


C  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  171 

my  counsel  on  paper  were  seized  in  prison,  that  papers  explanatory 
ol  several  things  urged  against  me  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Crown 
and  would  not  be  given  to  me  ;  that  in  charging  the  jury  summoned 
for  my  conviction,  the  judge  over-charged  them  and  distorted  many 
innocent  matters  to  my  prejudice,  as  he  had  to  admit  when  I  ven- 
tured to  interrupt  him  on  more  than  one  occasion.  Many  other  things 
1  n  tVrred  to,  that  you  may  see  on  reference  to  my  letter  to  your  pre- 
deccssor,  which  I  suppose  he  has  left  after  him.  About  the  time  of 
my  conviction  Englishmen  were  making  some  noise  about  a  Mr. 
Guidon,  of  Jamaica,  who  was  hanged,  without  having,  as  it  was 
thought,  "  a  fair  trial"  I  said  to  myself  (I  had  no  one  else  to  speak 
to)  that  if  Mr.  Gordon,  instead  of  being  hanged,  had  been  trans- 
ported or  imported  to  England  for  life,  he  would  be  allowed  to  state 
his  case  to  a  lawyer  or  a  member  of  Parliament.  I  fancied  that  a 
white  Irishman  might  be  as  dear  to  a  justice-loving  Englishman  as 
a  colored  West  Indian.  I  did  not  know  then  that  there  was  in  the 
same  prison  with  me,  No.  5,369,  who  was  arrested  amongst  your- 
selves in  London,  on  Christmas  week,  taken  to  the  proclaimed  part 
of  the  United  Kingdom  (Ireland),  far  away  from  the  locality 
where  he  was  said  to  have  offended  and  away  from  his  witnesses ; 
brought  the  following  week  before  a  General  Commission  in  Cork 
and  sent  back  to  London,  where  he  had  lived  for  the  previous 
twenty  years,  after  having  received  a  sentence  of  twelve  years' 
penal  servitude. 

Sir  George  Grey  refused  my  request.  I  do  not  insinuate  to  you 
that  this  refusal  had  anything  to  do  with  his  loss  of  office  !  I  will 
only  repeat  the  request  now.  If  you  grant  it  with  any  other  reason- 
able one  the  letter  may  contain,  may  you  hold  the  distinguished  posi- 
tion of  Secretary  of  State  as  long  as  you  like  it ;  if  you  do  not  grant 
it,  you  have  only  to  hold  the  office  as  long  as  you  can  ! 

Macaulay  says  of  Englishmen,  that  it  is  not  one  of  their  beset- 
ting sins  to  persecute  their  enemies  when  they  get  them  into  their 
power.  The  historian  may  be  right,  though  1  do  not  recollect  that 
he  brought  forward  any  enemy  qualified  to  speak  in  proof  of  hia 
assertion.  I  say  he  may  be  right,  having  in  view  that  there  is  an 
exception  to  every  rule,  and  coupling  it  with  the  fact,  that  in  the 
same  book  he  says  of  my  countrymen,  "  that  they  were  the  most 
hated  and  despised  enemies  of  his — hated,  because  they  were  ene- 
mies for  live  centuries,  and  despised  because  they  were  conquered, 
enslaved,  and  despoiled  enemies."  Of  my  experience,  while  in  the 
power  of  Englishmen,  I  will  give  you  a  brief  sketch.  Should  it 
contain  anything  unpleasant  to  you,  don't  take  it  up  personally,  or 
consider  me  personally  disrespectful ;  but  do  not  wonder  if  you 
should  find  me  falling  into  the  sin  of  contemning  British  magnan- 
imity when  I  am  told  by  the  Governor  of  my  prison  that  my  treat- 
ment is  in  accordance  with  the  special  orders  of  the  Secretary  oi 
State.  It  is  no  harm  to  let  you  know  what  this  treatment  is,  and 
give   you  time  to  approve  or  disapprove  of  it  before  I  make  up  my 


172  C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

mind  that  so  much  miserable  meanness  springs  from  such  a  source. 
As  a  man  thinks  of  many  things  in  solitary  confinement,  I,  trans- 
ported from  Ireland  to  England  for  life,  think  it  possible  I  may  yet 
become  an  English  citizen,  particularly  as  you  think  it  advisable  at 
present  that  every  independent,  honest-minded  man  should  be  sent 
and  kept  out  of  Ireland.  I  can  imagine  myself  having  an  interest 
already  in  seeing  that  the  honor  of  England  is  maintained — upon 
English  ground  at  least.  No  matter  how  we  use  the  Bible  and 
the  bullet  in  aid  of  our  mission  to  civilize  the  world — no  matter  how 
we  plant  penal  colonies — no  matter  how  we  run  men  into  prison,  or 
blow  them  from  the  cannon's  mouth  in  other  countries,  let  us  not  stain 
the  liberty  hallowed  heather  of  our  own  land — let  us  not  blight  the 
grass  which  grows  ever  green  over  the  graves  of  the  English  mar- 
tyrs, whose  blood  enriches  the  soil,  by  bringing  amongst  us,  for  the 
purpose  of  visiting  with  a  vile  persecution  and  worrying  to  death, 
men  who  at  least  are  not  matricides,  or  parricides,  and  who,  at 
most,  are  guilty  of  the  desire  to  manage  their  own  affairs — a  very 
heinous  crime,  no  doubt,  when  we  consider  how  many  wise  and 
philanthropic  English  noblemen  and  gentlemen  are  anxious  to  do 
the  thing  lor  them.  Let  us  not — but  hold  !  it  is  possible  my  imagi- 
nation has  trespassed  too  far  upon  my  citizenship,  and  carried  me 
too  far  on  the  liberal  side  to  be  pleasing  to  you  ;  too  far  entirely — 
before  I  am  out  of  the  probation  class  of  that  process  which  is 
,  deemed  necessary  for  the  civilization  of  Irish  political  prisoners — 
to  render  me  agreeable  to  any  stern  advocate  of  the  "  right  divine." 
I  will  beg  pardon,  break  the  illusion,  and  commence  my  small 
sketch.  With  a  view  to  making  it  as  entertaining  as  possible  I  asked 
the  Governor  if  I  would  be  allowed  pen,  ink  and  paper  in  my  cell 
for  a  day  or  a  Sunday  to  write  "  according  to  the  regulations."  I 
thought  I  might  get  facilities  suited  to  the  dignity  of  my  corre- 
spondent ;  but  no,  I  can  have  only  thirty  or  forty  minutes,  or  an 
occasional  evening  after  my  day's  labor,  three  or  four  days  apart — 
in  fact,  no  more  than  if  I  were  writing  to  my  wife  or  mother. 
What  wonder  then  if  I  am  in  bad  humor,  or  if  I  cannot  write  eo  as 
to  engage  you  pleasantly.  However,  I  will  strive  to  conquer  all 
disadvantages,  and  will  do  my  best  to  interest  you.  I  dare  say  you 
have  in  your  library  some  volume  relating  to  the  prisons  of  Europe 
and  pictures  of  European  despotism.  I  can  only  promise  you  as  full 
and  as  truthful  a  chapter  of  torturing  annoyances  as  you  can  find  in 
any  of  these.  If  the  dark  cruelties  be  absent  take  into  account  the  ex- 
tremely high  degree  of  your  civilization  ;  and  if  in  any  ofyour  alms- 
houses, as  your  own  writers  say,  "  you  kill  so  slowly  that  none  could 
call  it  murder,"  think  what  it  can  be  in  a  gaol.  Take  in  your  hand, 
for  instance,  "  Silvio  Pelico,"  and  compare  as  I  carry  you  along.  He, 
I  believe,  was  connected  with  a  journal  in  Italy  ;  I  was  connected 
with  a  newspaper  in  Ireland.  In  order  to  have  it  legally  registered 
I  had  to  appear  in  a  court  of  law,  and  sign  a  document  in  presence 
of  witnesses.      Charged  with  belonging  to  a  secret  society,  a  con- 


0' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  173 

gpiracy,  this  document  was  the  only  evidence  against  me  relied  upon 
by  my  prosecutors,  and  the  only  legal  evidence  they  had  at  all  to 
make  me  guilty.  I  was  sentenced  to  penal  servitude  for  the  remain- 
der of  my  days.  Thus  transported  to  a  new  life,  the  first  light  of  it 
darkened  upon  me  in  Mount  joy  Prison,  Dublin,  on  the  13  th  Decem- 
ber, 1865.  My  hair  and  beard  were  shorn,  my  clothes  taken  from 
me.  I  got  the  felon's  dress,  and,  with  my  name  pinned  across  my 
breast,  my  photograph  was  taken.  Here  I  noticed  the  absence  of 
the  customary  compliments  from  the  artist  of  my  making  a  good 
picture,  &c.  The  rules  for  my  guidance  were  read.  I  pitched  upon 
one  which  allows  every  convict  to  write  a  letter  upon  reception.  I 
asked  for  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  to  write  to  my  wife.  I  could  not 
have  them.  I  referred  to  the  rule,  and  was  told  that  was  for  the 
ordinary  criminals.  I  was  put  in  my  cell,  got  oakum  to  pick,  and 
one  hour's  solitary  exercise  every  day.  During  the  ten  nights  I  lay 
here,  I  got  a  little  experience  of  the  torture  inflicted  in  other  coun- 
tries upon  prisoners  by  forbidding  sleep  to  them.  Guards  were 
calling  to  each  other  every  half  hour  outside  my  cell.  The  door  of 
this  contained  a  trap,  through  which  I  got  my  food.  It  was  fas- 
tened with  a  chain  and  bolt,  and  opened  every  fifteen  minutes  by 
two  officers,  who  held  a  bull's-eye  lantern  and  shot  the  light  from  it 
full  in  my  face.  If  I  covered  my  head  to  avoid  the  annoyance,  they 
called  upon  me  until  I  showed  my  face  before  they  would  shut  the 
trap. 

On  the  morning  of  the  21st,  I  saw  some  of  my  fellow  prisoners 
for  the  first  time.  We  were  put  in  a  van,  and  when  we  got  out  of 
it  I  found  myself  in  Kingstown,  going  on  board  a  steamer  for  Eng- 
land. The  irons  were  fastened  so  tightly  upon  me  that  my  hands 
were  already  colored  and  swollen,  and  the  pain  was  reminding  me 
too  forcibly  that  I  was  a  prisoner.  The  poem  of  the  convict  came 
prosaically  to  my  mind,  and  I  began  to  realize  that — 

"Wave  after  wave  was  dividing 
Bosoms  that  sorrow  and  guilt  could  not  sever." 

Altogether,  I  was  getting  so  disgusted  with  the  voyage,  that  I 
began  to  discharge  my  stomach.  I  asked  for  the  officer  in  charge  of 
us.  I  showed  him  the  state  of  my  hands  from  the  tightness  of  the 
bands,  and  as  we  approached  nearer  to  free  England  he  gave  me 
freer  irons.  I  found  myself  getting  into  a  London  prison  about 
eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  I  thought  that  in  the  capitol  of  a 
great  nation  I  would  be  allowed  many  things  forbidden  elsewhere, 
and  it  was  some  consolation  to  me  to  think  I  could  write  to  my 
wife  next  day.  I  felt  fatigued,  cold,  and  thirsty,  and  I  asked  if  I 
could  have  a  drink  of  some  kind,  but  there  was  to  be  no  drink  for  a 
while.  We  were  stripped  of  the  clothiug  we  got  in  Ireland,  and 
supplied  with  the  Pentonville  dress.  We  got  flannels  in  Ireland, 
and  we  got  none  here;  we  asked  for  them,  and  were  told  we  could 
not  get  them,  as  the  doctor  had  so  ordered.     A  warder  directed  me 


174  0* Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

to  my  cell  and  brought  me  a  piece  of  bread  and  cheese.  I  told  him 
I  did  not  want  anything  to  eat,  but  wanted  a  drink.  He  showed 
me  a  pint  and  a  water  pipe,  and  told  me  the  cell  contained  every 
other  necessary  that  wTas  deemed  requisite  for  me — that  he  would 
leave  the  gas  lighting  for  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  I  should 
eat  my  snpper,  make  my  bed,  and  have  every  article  of  my  clothing, 
except  my  shirt,  made  up  in  a  bundle,  to  be  put  outside  my  cell 
door  during  the  night.  I  drank  a  few  pints  of  water.  I  made  my 
bed  upon  a  board  V  feet  by  3,  raised  at  the  head  by  another  board 
for  a  pillow.  1  had  for  a  bed,  a  mattress  about  half  an  inch  thick, 
and  not  altogether  as  hard  as  the  board.  The  warder  came  in  due 
time,  and  I  put  out  my  clothes  and  every  moveable  article  in  my 
cell,  except  that  comfortless  bed.  The  sufferings  of  these  days  was 
intense.  In  the  cold  month  of  December,  and  on  such  an  occasion, 
it  was  cruel  to  deprive  us  of  flannels  wdiich  we  were  accustomed  to 
wear.  Will  you  find  anything  like  it  in  the  prison  life  of  Silvio 
Pelico  ?  Some  of  the  men  who  were  treated  in  a  similar  manner 
died. 

No.  5,365  tells  me  that  he  was  present  when  Mr.  Lynch  wTas 
deprived  of  his  flannels,  and  heard  him  tell  the  warder  that  unless 
he  got  them  he  would  be  dead  in  three  months.  He,  alas !  spoke 
but  too  truly,  but  of  course  he  died  in  the  manner  Coleridge  says — 
"  Killed  so  slowly  that  none  could  call  it  murder." 

For  three  days  after  my  arrival  in  London  I  could  eat  nothing, 
and  the  officer  removed  the  bread  that  accumulated.  The  first  time 
I  saw  the  doctor,  I  asked  him  wrould  he  be  pleased  to  allow  me  flan- 
nels, and  he  would  not.  The  Director  visited  me,  and  left  an  order 
that  I  be  made  a  tailor  of.  I  asked  him  could  I  wrrite  to  my  family; 
He  said — No.  To  Mr.  Stansfield?  No;  but  I  could  petition  the  Sec- 
retary of  State  if  I  liked.  A  few  weeks  after  I  did  petition  him,  with 
the  aforementioned  result.  I  did  not  petition  to  be  allowed  to 
write  to  my  wife,  as  I  felt  ashamed  to  let  the  Secretary  of  State  see 
that  I  thought  he  could  be  so  small  and  mean  as  to  deny  me  a  right 
and  privilege  accorded  to  the  meanest  pickpocket.  At  length  I 
was  handed  a  letter  from  my  wife,  but  it  was  a  fortnight  in  the 
prison  before  I  got  it,  and  I  received  one  leaf  of  paper  to  write  a 
reply.  I  was  told  that  if  I  stated  anything  regarding  the  prison,  or 
the  officers,  or  the  work,  or  the  treatment,  that  my  letter  wrould  be 
suppressed. 

Three  days  afterwards  the  Governor  sent  for  me,  and  told  me 
he  had  to  erase  what  related  to  my  asking  my  solicitor  to  get  per- 
mission for  me  to  write  to  an  English  member  of  Parliament.  No 
reply  to  that  letter  wras  allowed,  as  the  authorities  decided  that  the 
note  of  inquiry  I  received  should  answer  for  the  reply  to  a  prisoner's 
letter,  and  thus  several  of  us  were  cheated  out  of  hearing  about 
family  affairs.  This  was  distressingly  painful  to  me,  as  I  had  five  chil- 
dren,whose  estate  was  confiscated  in  my  arrest.  I  represented  matters 
to  the  Governor,  but  it  was  of  no  avail ;  he  should  govern  according  to 


0 'Donovan  fiossas  Prison  Life.  175 

his  instructions.  For  the  first  two  months  in  Pentonville  Prison,  so 
far  as  our  exercise  and  putting  out  our  cell  furniture  at  night  were 
concerned,  we  were  treated  like  prisoners  who  had  attempted  to 
break  prison,  but  at  the  commencement  of  the  third  month  we  were 
sent  to  exercise  with  the  other  prisoners.  Some  of  them  were  placed 
between  every  two  of  us,  and  all  walked  four  paces  apart  in  circles, 
and  in  silence.  The  doctor  one  day  ordered  me  a  llannel  waistcoat. 
I  suppose  he  thought  my  blood  was  getting  cool  enough.  He 
often  asked  me  if  I  was  able  to  eat  my  food,  which  looked  like 
mockery  to  one  who  as  often  had  reason  to  tell  him  he  felt  half 
starved,  and  he  always  took  my  answer  as  indicative  of  good 
health.  I  often  thought  what  a  capital  chairman  he'd  make  for 
your  board  of  health  in  Ireland.  An  orderly  always  preceded  the 
Governor  and  Deputy  Governor  in  their  visits  to  me,  and  I  had  to 
stand  to  attention  with  my  cap  off,  but  for  the  Deputy  I  was 
ordered  to  add  the  additional  salute  of  raising  my  hand  to  my  head. 
Why  the  Governor  did  not  requide  this  koo-tooing  I  do  not  know : 
perhaps  he  was  enough  of  the  gentleman. 

For  not  raising  the  hand  to  the  bare  head  in  this  prison,  Mr. 
O'Connor  wras  put  into  a  dark  cell  for  three  days  on  sixteen  ounces 
of  bread  and  plenty  of  water  each  day.  Deprivation  of  food  is  a 
prominent  feature  in  all  punishment.  On  the  9lh  of  May  I  was 
taken  to  the  Governor's  office  and  told  that  my  wife  had  given 
birth  to  a  son  on  the  30th  April,  but  I  could  not  write  to  her  until 
six  months  after  the  date  of  my  last  letter,  and  I  rejoiced  in  the 
evuit  as  well  as  circumstances  would  permit. 

On  the  14th  May  we  were  mustered  for  Portland,  and  we 
noticed  the  absence  of  five  of  our  number.  They  were  broken 
down  in  health,  ajd  had  been  sent  to  the  invalid  station  of  Woking. 
We  were  weighed,  and  we  learned  that  some  of  us  had  lost  as 
many  as  20  lbs.  That  some  of  these  are  not  yet  sent  to 
the  half-way  house  of  death  I  attribute  to  their  strong-natured 
powers  of  endurance,  but  a  little  time  here  is  able  to  work  the  de- 
sired examples.  We  arrive  in  Portland  in  the  evening.  After 
several  applications  for  sufficient  paper  to  write  to  you  I  am  allowed 
three  sheets  to  do  so.  I  have  not  spare  time  to  let  you  know  many 
particulars  of  out-  treatment,  and  must  content  myself  with  giving 
you  as  much  as  will  enable  any  clear-headed  individual  to  see 
the  animus  towards  us.  Could  I,  by  my  escape  from  prison,  a(: 
ford  you  that  satisfaction  which  Dr.  Johnson  says  all  people  ex 
perience  at  the  escape  of  rebels,  and  were  I  never  to  live  in  Eng. 
land  again,  I  should  form  but  a  very  indifferent  opinion  of  thu 
manhood  of  the  country  were  I  to  judge  of  it  from  what  I  have 
seen  in  this  part.  Armed  authority  earns  for  itself  the  reputation 
of  coward,  when  it  ill-treats  a  party  bound  hand  and  foot  and  de- 
livered into  its  charge.  The  majority  of  our  masters  may  not  con- 
sider the  prison  rules  severe  enough  for  us,  and  may  volunteer  a 
little  extra  duty.     I  admit  that  there  are  exceptions — men  who  do 


176  0  ''Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

their  part  without  making  every  word  and  look  convey  an  insult 
and  a  sneer.  But,  perhaps,  they  are  not  thus  discharging  the 
duty  expected  from  them  when  in  contact  with  us.  Let  it,  how- 
ever, be  hoped  that  these  exceptions  represent  a  rule. 

To  be  told  that  we  are  no  better  than  Sodomites  and  thieves — 
that  nothing  could  make  us  more  degraded  than  we  are — that  not 
alone  in  this  world  should  we  be  punished  but  in  the  next — that  it 
is  not  easy  to  kill  us,  &c,  may  be  nothing — but  to  be  told  that  we 
are  liars,  that  we  are  bloodthirsty,  that  we  are  like  a  lot  of  old 
women,  that  we  are  better  fed  than  when  we  fed  ourselves,  &c,  is 
enough  to  quicken  the  blood,  even  though  it  be  poverty-stricken  by 
bad  and  insufficient  nourishment.  A  word  from  us  in  reply  is 
called  insolence  and  punished  as  such.  This  is  what  you  will  not 
find  in  Silvio  Pelico.  His  enemy  never  took  a  cowardly  advantage 
of  his  helplessness  to  insult  him  in  his  suffering.  On  the  contrary, 
he  says  he  got  kind  words  and  looks  of  sympathy  everywhere  in 
his  enemy's  country.  Yet  have  we  borne  all  without  an  ill-word 
to  any  one.  The  sacredness  of  the  cause  of  liberty  and  fatherland 
requires  that  men  should  suffer  calmly  and  strongly  for  it — that 
cause  which  I  will  do  you  the  justice  to  think  you  admire  when 
represented  by  a  Hugo,  a  Kosciusko,  a  Kossuth,  a  Garibaldi,  or  any 
aoble  spirit  outside  the  British  dominion.  Excuse  this  inconsistency 
of  my  expressing  myself  somewhat  like  a  freeman.  You  know  I 
am  in  a  land  where  even  the  air  of  the  prison  is  liable  to  be  affected 
with  the  taint  of  liberty.  I  am  not  allowed  to  speak  ;  I  am  told 
that  even  I  have  no  right  to  think.  What  wonder,  then,  if  my 
thoughts  overflow  a  little  when  allowed  to  write.  On  our  arrival  in 
Portland  the  rules  were  read  for  us,  and  these  rules  de- 
clared that  prisoners  could  write  a  letter  upon  recep- 
tion. I  asked  could  we  write,  and  I  was  told  we  could  not. 
The  Governor  told  us  he  could  be  kind  or  severe  according  as  it 
suited  the  due  discharge  of  his  duty.  Some  of  the  men  had  religious 
emblems,  crosses,  sacred  hearts,  &c,  momentoes  from  fond  sisters, 
dear  or  departed  mothers.  These  amulets  or  cnarms,  he  said,  he 
should  retain  until  further  orders.  Next  day  we  were  taken  to  the 
laundry,  and  until  the  19th  were  kept  washing  the  clothing  of  other 
prisoners.  We  were  then  sent  to  the  quarries,  where  we  are  at 
present.  Mr.  Kickham  was  affected  with  scrofulous  ulcers,  and  was 
sent  to  hospital  the  second  day.  After  four  or  five  weeks  he  was 
brought  among  u^,  lodged  in  one  of  our  dark  flagged  cells,  and  sent 
with  us  to  the  quarry  at  stone  dressing.  He  unhappily  is  near- 
sighted and  very  deaf,  and  carries  an  ear-trumpet  to  enable  a  per- 
son to  eon  verse  with  him;  but  a  warder  (I'm  afraid  I'll  slip  into 
saying  jailor  sometime)  lias  a  way  of  his  own  of  making  himself 
understood.  "  Keebling  "  a  stone,  this  sick  gentleman  sat  or  leaned 
upon  a  ledge  of  rock  while  I  was  preparing  it  for  him  ;  the  officer 
laid  hold  of  him  and  shook  him  up,  saying  loudly,  "  He  was  not 
allowed  to  rest  during  working  hours."     He  was  another  day  in  the 


O^  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life.  177 

ranks,  and  not  marching  with  military  precision,  the  warder,  while 
we  were  in  motion,  gave  him  a  violent  push  out  of  the  ranks,  and 
staggered  him  some  paces  aside.  We  are  transported  on  a  charge  of 
striving  to  learn  in  our  own  country  what  you  oblige  us  to  practice 
in  this,  under  pain  of  punishment — that  is,  military  drill.  It  is  the 
only  thing  in  which  you  are  kind  and  just  to  us — instructing  us 
here  in  what  you  forbade  us  at  home,  and  what  may  be  of  use  to 
us  some  day.  Mr.  Kickham  sank  under  the  system ;  the  ulcers 
opened  ;  he  sent  for  the  doctor,  who  sent  him  to  the  hospital.  He 
grew  fit  for  the  invalid  station,  and  we  have  not  heard  of  him 
since.  Mr.  Roantree  had  hermorrhoids  and  the  blood  used  to  stream 
into  his  shoes  while  at  work.  Making  frequent  representations  of 
his  condition  to  the  doctor  and  Governor  without  effect,  he  so 
labored  during  three  months  until  a  representation  to  the  Director 
got  him  sent  to  the  hospital.  Here  he  became  seriously  ill  from  the 
loss  of  blood,  &c,  and  he  now  fears  he  is  doomed  to  the  half-way 
house.  Mr.  Duggan  went  to  the  doctor,  he  got  a  pill  and  was  told 
it  would  eure  him,  and  not  to  come  any  more.  He  was  kept  at 
work ;  two  days  after  he  was  not  able  to  work,  and  is  now  in 
hospital.  Mr.  Carey  was  kebling  a  stone  one  day,  the  iron  flew  off 
the  handle,  and  he  got  the  middle  finger  of  his  right  hand  broken  ; 
the  doctor  talked  of  amputation,  and  the  patient  would  not 
have  it  so.  He  was  sent  to  the  quarry  with  the  sore  hand  in  a 
sling  and  spent  six  weeks  breaking  stones  with  the  one  hand  till 
the  other  got  well.  Many  of  the  men  were  ill  from  time  to  time, 
and  wore  off  their  illness  without  medicine  rather  than  go  before  a 
doctor,  who  thought  fit  to  insult  everyone  of  us  who  visited  him. 
Several  of  us  were  under  medical  treatment,  and  receiving  extra 
nourishment  leaving  Pentonville,  one  of  them,  Mr.  Keane,  reduced 
two  stones  there,  and  being  a  very  tall  man,  looks  very  much  ema- 
ciated. He  is  bilious,  and  like  others,  cannot  use  gruel  for  supper. 
This  I  know,  as  I  am  occasionally  in  the  hall  serving  out  meals, 
cleaning  boots,  and  collecting  slops.  He  told  the  doctor  of  his 
state,  and  was  informed  there  could  be  no  special  rules  forhim; 
that  he  was  getting  as  much  food  as  any  other  man  in  the  j>roba- 
tion  class,  and  remarked  that  we  were  all  sick  in  Pentonville.  Mr. 
O'Leary  occupied  the  next  cell  to  Mr.  Keane,  and  handed  him  a 
loaf  of  bread  one  day,  for  which  both  got  punished,  and  the  bread 
was  confiscated  to  the  State.  I  had  occasion  to  visit  the  doctor  my- 
self— him  who  appears  to  belong  to  the  " Jemimar"  family.  I  am  not 
strong-sighted,  the  glare  of  the  sun  on  the  white  stone  I  am  ham- 
mering on  nine  or  ten  hours  every  day,  and  the  particles  that  fly  off 
affect  my  eyes  painfully  ;  but  the  medical  gentleman  could  see 
nothing  the  matter  with  them.  I  deemed  it  well  to  tell  so  much, 
and  no  more,  to  the  Prison  Director,  without  making  any  complaint 
against  the  doctor  or  anyone  else.  I  was  taken  to  the  infirmary  on 
the  Director's  order,  but  the  janitor  there  would  not  admit  me. 
Both  doctors  shortly  appeared,  examined  my  eyes  and  held  a  con- 


178  0' ] Donovan  BosscCs  Prison  Life, 

sultation.  Then  one  of  them,  addressing  me  angrily,  said — "You 
made  a  complaint  against  us  to  the  Director,  but  I  cannot  see  any- 
thing the  matter  with  your  eyes;  and  turning  to  the  warder,  he 
said,  "  take  him  away,  and  I'll  give  a  certificate  to  the  Governor 
that  will  settle  the  matter." 

We  have  been  told  by  the  Director  that  we  were  sent  here  before 
the  usual  time  for  the  good  of  our  health.  I  thank  whoever  con- 
ceived the  charitable  design,  but  to  us  it  seems  to  have  miscarried,! 
as  cuts  and  scratches  incidental  to  us  at  work  healed  up  quickly 
when  we  came  to  Portland,  but  now  they  fester  and  grow  angry. 

Though  you  abolished  your  star  chamber  in  the  reign  of  your 
First  Charles,  what  I  am  going  to  state  now  would  make  it  appear 
that  the  root  of  it  is  in  the  land  still,  and  shoots  out  occasionally  in 
your  convict  prisons. 

Mr.  Moore  and  I  were  taken  to  the  punishment  cells  one  day, 
shortly  after  our  arrival  here.  I  was  stripped  of  my  shoes,  and  led 
through  a  long  flagged  hall,  to  a  room  where  sat  the  Governor.  He 
read  from  a  report  book  a  charge  against  me  of  speaking  in  my  cell 
at  a  certain  hour  on  a  certain  day.  There  was  no  accuser  before 
me  except  the  book.  The  Governor  asked,  "  had  I  anything  to  say 
in  reply."  I  said  "  nothing,"  but  that  it  was  possible  I  did  speak, 
as  I  had  not  lost  the  use  of  my  tongue.  He  fined  me  24  marks,  and 
ordered  my  clothes  to  be  branded  with  a  mark  of  degradation,  and 
my  companion  fared  likewise. 

My  cell  is  seven  feet  long  and  four  feet  broad,  and  not  at  all 
formed  like  the  dungeon  of  the  Sicilian  tyrant,  Dionysius.  'Tis 
true  that  the  rain  comes  down  on  me  sometimes,  and  to  escape  it  I 
am  obliged  to  lay  on  the  flags ;  but  the  sonnd  of  the  voice  does  not 
go  out  by  the  road  the  rain  comes  in.  No,  there  is  a  small  iron 
grating  at  the  end  of  a  hole  opening  into  the  yard,  and  it  is  at  this 
hole  the  eaves-dropper  outside  listens. 

On  a  Sunday,  when  I  am  cooped  up  in  this  small  cell  all  day,  I 
am  not  allowed  to  walk  in  it.  My  officer  tells  me  that  it  is  making 
a  noise,  and  noise  is  not  allowed.  1  am  not  permitted  to  sling  the 
canvas  of  my  hammock  and  stretch  upon  it.  I  did  this  once  in  a 
darkened  cell  when  I  had  not  light  enough  to  read,  and  I  got 
twenty-four  hours  punishment  diet  for  it. 

The  Governor  told  us  we  could  speak  while  at  work,  but  that  we 
should  speak  loud  enough  for  the  officer  to  hear  us,  lest  we  should 
be  planning  anything;  and  this  same  Governor,  in  a  few  weeks 
afterward,  and  in  my  presence,  called  the  warders  to  account  for 
allowing  us  to  speak  too  loud  ;  and  these  instructions  afforded  the 
warders  agreeable  exercise  for  a  time  in  checking  us  for  speaking 
either  too  high  or  too  low.  Then  an  order  came  one  morning  we 
were  not  to  speak  a  word  at  all,  upon  any  pretence  whatsoever. 
The  day  this  order  was  issued,  an  inspecting  officer  came  round ;  1 
was  called  before  him,  and  was  called  to  account  for  asking  the  war- 
der, "  How  long  did  he  think  these  instructions  would  last  ?  "     I 


O**  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  179 

said  it  looked  to  me  quite  a  harmless  question.  He  said  the  order 
given  was  wrong,  in  so  far  as  it  was  not  forbidden  to  ask  for  an 
implement  or  anything  relating  to  the  work.  I  told  him  I  wished 
to  know  to  what  extent  I  could  go  in  speaking  to  another  prisoner? 
if  I  could  say,  "Prisoner,  this  is  hard  work."  He  immediately  said 
I  was  impertinent,  and  I  replied  that  the  prison  rules  did  not  per- 
mit me  to  be  impertinent  to  him,  nor  him  to  be  impertinent  to  me. 
He  ordered  me  to  be  taken  to  the  punishment  cells,  and  on  my  way 
in  he  ordered  me  to  be  brought  back  again. 

There  is  a  temporary  water-closet  near  the  quarry,  and  I  was 
told  one  day  I  should  empty  it  out  the  next  day.  I  asked  the  Gov- 
ernor if  this  was  work  expected  from  me,  and  he  told  me  it  cer- 
tainly was.  The  officer  in  charge  learning  I  had  this  conversation 
with  the  Governor,  and  knowing  that  the  job  was  a  disagreeable 
one,  said  he  would  make  two  of  us  clean  it  out  every  Monday 
morning  in  future,  though  it  was  cleaned  only  once  every  three 
weeks  before,  and  he  kept  his  word  with  us. 

I  was  carrying  a  stone  on  a  barrow  once.  I  fell  and  cut  my  hand 
and  the  doctor  plastered  it  up.  A  few  days  afterwards  the  warder 
ordered  me  to  remove  a  very  large  stone,  and  when  the  front  man 
was  ascending  a  step  of  the  quarry  the  stone  rolled  back  and 
knocked  me  down.  The  warder  commenced  scolding  me,  and,  see- 
ing another  prisoner  come  to  take  away  the  stone,  he  said,  "  I  was 
such  a  man  as  would  suck  another  man's  blood."  I  asked  permis- 
sion to  see  the  Governor  that  evening  to  know  if  there  was  any  re- 
dress for  this  course  of  daily  insult.  If  you  think  there  is  I  refer  you 
to  another  fruitless  effort  to  find  it  made  by  Mr.  Mulcahy  a  few 
days  ago.  I  was  not  allowed  to  make  my  report  to  the  Governor 
for  a  week,  and  in  the  meantime  I  was  punished  by  being  put  on 
bread  and  water  on  a  charge  of  idleness,  insolence  and  disobedience 
of  orders.  As  regards  the  idleness  they  said  I  was  generally  idle ; 
the  disobedience  of  orders  consisted  in  talking  while  there  was  a 
general  order  not  to  talk,  and  the  insolence  was  that  when  the 
warder,  believing  he  heard  me  talk,  asked  me  did  I  defy  the  rules  ? 
I  told  him  I  could  not  answer  what  I  considered  a  very  improper 
question,  but  when  I  violated  any  of  the  rules  he  could  get  me 
legally  punished,  which  I  preferred  to  being  abused.  When  I  saw 
the  Governor  I  reported  the  warder  for  using  towards  me  language 
wantonly  provoking,  and  the  Governor  told  me  "  I  could  have 
no  will  of  my  own  here  ;  that  it  was  my  duty  to  answer  every  ques- 
tion put  to  me  ;  that  I  was  not  sent  here  to  be  too  sensitive  ;  that 
nothing  could  make  me  more  degraded  than  I  was;  that  if  I 
knew  the  serious  consequences  of  bringing  a  false  charge  against  an 
officer — 78  days' punishment — I  wouid  be  slow  to  do  it;  that  Mr. 
Gunning's  character  was  too  well  established  in  the  prison  for  any 
charge  of  mine  to  affect  it,  and  that  he  had  written  for  permission 
to  be  allowed  to  divide  us  among  the  English  convicts."  This  con- 
trasted rather  strangely  with  the  rule  that  the  Governor  must  at  all 


180  O' 'Donovan  Itossa's  Prison  Life. 

times  be  willing  to  receive  the  report  of  a  prisoner  against  an 
officer. 

We  are  paraded  every  Sunday,  and  stand  to  "  attention,"  cap  in 
hand,  while  the  inspector  is  passing.  Five  Sundays  ago  an  officer 
called  Major  Hickey  inspected  us,  and  I,  as  usual,  put  on  my  cap 
after  he  had  passed  me  by  some  paces.  Then  he  turned  sharply 
around,  and  ordered  me  to  take  off  my  cap  again  whilst  he  was 
passing  the  line  of  English  prisoners  that  stood  some  distance 
away.  I  have  noticed  that  there  is  no  order  given  to  put  on  caps, 
but  the  prisoners  put  them  on  after  the  inspector  passes  by. 
When  this  gallant  officer  shows  such  a  zeal  in  humiliating  the 
enemies  of  his  country,  I  wonder  that  he  seeks  them  or  allows  his 
sword  to  rust  in  such  a  place  as  a  convict  prison. 

Another  time  we   are  at  work  while  it  is  raining,  and  the  bell 

rings,   as  a  notice   to  all  prisoners  to  go  under  the   sheds.     We 

happen  to  move  towards  our  shed  before  the  officer  commands  us  to 

do  so,  and  he  orders  us  back  again,  keeping  us  till  we  are  well  wet, 

-while  he  himself  is  protected  with  waterproof  over-clothing. 

There  are  nine  articles  of  tin  furniture  in  each  cell,  which  are  to 
be  kept  bright  and  dry  at  all  times.  When  very  wet  weather  comes 
we  are  kept  in  our  cells.  The  furniture  is  put  outside  the  cell-door, 
and,  with  whiting  and  brick-dust,  gets  the  benefit  of  the  otherwise 
idle  time.  The  order  for  absolute  silence  being  in  force,  I  was 
reported  for  talking  at  my  work  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  by  a  new 
regulation  I  am,  in  consequence  of  this  report,  shut  up  in  my  cell, 
and  obliged  to  dust  and  clean  these.  I  experienced  this  four  times 
only  yet,  and  the  air  becomes  so  impure  that  I  can  feel  it  cracking 
between  my  teeth.  And  speaking  to  each  other  is  also  to  be  used 
as  a  pretext  to  deprive  us  of  seeing  our  friends  from  the  outer  world, 
of  receiving  and  writing  letters  in  future.  It  looks  as  if  the  autho- 
rities wished  to  try  how  much  we  will  bear.  I  don't  know  but  that 
it  is  entirely  illegal  to  prevent  us  from  speaking,  if  speaking  is 
allowed  on  the  public  works  i;i  Ireland. 

It  was  allowed  here  and  there  at  the  time  of  my  conviction,  and 
I  should  have  the  benefit  of  the  law  as  it  stood  then. 

Would  you  please  to  consult  the  very  able  and  zealous  Judge 
Keogh,  who  convicted  me,  on  this  point.  I  rather  think  his 
humanity  would  incline  him  to  giving  me  the  humaner  sentence 
of  making  my  life  a  short  one  if  he  thought  my  mouth  was  to 
be  locked  up  for  ever,  and  that  I  would  not  be  allowed  to  speak  to  a 
fellow-prisoner,  even  in  praise  of  the  beauties  of  the  system  under 
which  we  labor,  of  the  benefits  of  trial  by  jury  in  Ireland,  or  of  any 
other  blessing  of  the  glorious  British  Constitution. 

When  I  applied  to  the  Governor  for  this  paper  to  write  to  you  I 
told  him,  in  reply  to  a  question,  that  I  was  going  to  state  something 
to  you  regaiding  our  treatment,  he  said,  "  I  do  what  I  can  for  you 
fellows,  and  I  consider  you  are  very  well  treated ;  too  well,  con- 
sidering the  enormity  of  your  crime,  for  you  did  more  to  injure  your 


O' Donovan  Bosscts  Prison  Life.  181 

country  than  can  be  repaired  for  a  long  time,  as  your  own  people 
admit.  You  caused  thousands  of  moneyed  people  to  leave  Ireland, 
and  twenty  years  ago  you'd  have  been  hanged." 

I  said  to  hang  us  might  have  been  the  better  for  us,  and  that  it 
was  rather  difficult  to  hear  the  natural  voice  of  our  own  people  in 
Ireland  lately. 

Only  think  of  a  Russian  or  Austrian  jailer  telling  his  Polish  or 
Italian  prisoner  that  he  was  the  ruin  of  his  country  when  the  Gover- 
nors proclaimed  martial  law  and  frightened  away  a  few  timid  set- 
tlers. This  kind  of  observation  may  be  annoying  to  some  tempera- 
ments, but  as  it  excites  my  risibility  somewhat,  and  helps  to  make 
the  digestive  organs  do  the  very  difficult  work  they  have  to  do,  I 
mind  it  but  little. 

Now  I  will  present  to  you  another  feature  of  your  Christian 
humanity.  My  mother  is  living  in  America,  and  I  asked  the  Prison 
Director  ior  permission  to  write  to  her,  and  could  not  get  it.  When 
writing  to  Ireland  some  time  ago,  I  told  the  Gevern-  <r  that,  as  my 
mother  was  very  old  and  not  likely  to  live  long,  it  was  painful  tome 
to  think  that  she  might  die  thinking  that  she  was  forgotten  by  her 
son.  To  ease  my  mind  on  the  matter  I  asked  for  the  smallest  scrap 
of  paper  on  which  to  write  a  few  lines  te  enclose  to  her  in  the  letter 
to  my  wife,  and  it  would  not  be  given  to  me. 

My  wife  took  my  children  to  the  home  of  her  father,  and  she,  in 
writing  to  me,  enclosed  a  letter  from  him,  which  would  not  be  given 
to  me,  because,  as  the  Governor  said,  it  contained  political  para- 
graphs.    I  asked  to  have  these  paragraphs  obliterated. 

Several  of  the  prisoners'  letters  were  suppressed  because  they 
contained  accounts  of  our  treatment. 

I  had  a  visit  from  my  wife  of  twenty  minutes'  duration,  and  we 
were  told  that  the  interview  would  be  terminated  if  my  wife 
attempted  to  tell  me  anything  ot  the  political  world  outside,  or  if  I 
told  her  anything  of  my  treatment  inside  the  prison  walls. 

As  a  general  rule,  all  punishment  is  inflicted  for  the  purpose  of  act- 
ing as  a  deterrent  of  crime,  and  when  any  authority  inflicts  punish- 
ment which  it  is  either  afraid  or  ashamed  to  have  known,  it  is  sup- 
posed to  mean  persecution.  But  I  must  bear  in  mind  that  in  governing 
Irishmen  you  are  not  supposed  to  act  in  accordance  with  any  known 
rule.  Mr.  Gladstone  wrote  a  pamphlet  on  prisons  in  Naples,  in 
which  he  showed  that  the  policy  of  Neapolitan  tyranny  required 
that  the  political  prisoners  be  subjected  to  the  same  treatment  as 
vagabond  ones.  This,  surely,  is  seeing  the  mote  in  a  neighbor's  eye 
and  blind  to  the  beam  in  our  own.  Should  you  give  Mr.  Gladstone 
my  card,  witli  a  view  of  his  paying  me  a  vl>it  in  Portland,  I  will 
show  him  as  bad  a  state  of  things  as  he  saw  in  Naples,  and  if  he  make 
a  fair  inquiry  on  oath,  I  will  venture  to  convince  him  that  political 
prison  rs  are  treated  somewhat  worse  than  thieves  and  murderers  in 
England!  Or  perhaps  you  would  send  the  editor  of  Public  Opinion, 
or  a  Philo-Hibernian  such  as  Lord  Cranbourne,  or,  better  still,  a  phi* 


182  O'Donooan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

lanthropist  such  as  Lord  Carnarvon,  and  I'll  engage  he'll  go  back 
with  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks.  Do  send  some  one  of  them, 
and  for  the  temporal  and  eternal  welfare  of  mankind  in  general,  and 
the  liberation  of  all  oppressed  peoples  in  particular,  petitioner  will, 
as  in  duty  bound,  ever  pray. 

Jer.  O'Donovan  Rossa. 

Petitioner  will  add  a  postscript  as  he  has  been  favored  with  an 
additional  sheet  of  paper.  It  is  some  three  weeks  since  he 
commenced  this  petition,  and  now  that  the  routine  of  writing 
is  ended  he  wishes  you  to  understand  that  he  is  not  so  un- 
reasonable as  to  expect  or  desire  any  other  treatment  than  that 
he  is  receiving,  so  long  as  the  happiness  of  the  English  people 
and  the  interest  of  the  Empire  demand  that  he  be  "civilized" 
after  the  fashion  of  his  friends  at  Woking,  or  after  the  fashion  of 
Mr.  Roebuck's  New  Zealanders.  To  attend  to  these  interests  is 
your  duty;  to  suffer  and  be  strong  while  life  is  left  is  the  duty  of 
petitioner.  Petitioner  was  allowed  to  receive  a  letter  from  his  wife 
six  weeks  ago  ;  she  asked  some  questions  relating  to  debts  and 
matters  connected  with  the  maintenance  of  herself  and  children,  and 
she  hoped  the  humanity  of  the  authorities  would  allow  a  reply.  The 
Governor  told  petitioner  to  write  on  a  slate  what  he  had  to  say,  and 
he  now  tells  petitioner  he  could  not  send  the  reply,  as  it  would  be 
lessening  the  prisoner's  punishment. 

"  And  this  is  in  a  Christian  land  where  men  oft  kneel  and  pray, 
the  vaunted  home  of  liberty," — where  every  man  deprived  of  it  is 
furnished  with  a  Bible. 

My  petition  was  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities  two  months  be- 
fore they  vouchsafed  me  an  answer.  One  Christmas  Eve  1  was 
called  out  of  my  punishment  cell  and  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
the  Governor.  Two  English  convicts  were  placed  in  position  by  my 
side,  and  the  three  of  us  having  been  called,  according  to  our  num- 
bers, were  told  that  our  petitions  had  been  duly  considered,  and 
that  there  were  seen  no  grounds  for  granting  what  we  required.  I 
was  half  ways  into  a  sentence  telling  the  Governor  that  I  did  not 
recollect  requiring  anything  particularly,  when  he  shut  me  up  by 
waving  his  hand  to  the  officer,  saying  "  that  will  do."  The  officer 
took  hold  of  my  shoulder,  and  gave  me  a  turn  towards  the  door, 
sympathetic  with  his  order  of  "  right  about  face."  I  had  some  fun 
with  one  oi  the  schoolmasters  when  I  commenced  writing  this  peti- 
tion. I  think  I  spent  three  or  four  weeks  at  it,  as  I  was  allowed  to 
write  only  two  evenings  in  the  week,  and  about  an  hour  each  even- 
ing. The  schoolmaster  took  the  paper  away  after  I  had  done  with 
it,  and  as  he  brought  it  after  I  had  done  the  first  hour's  writing  he 
said  I  should  have  to  change  the  whole  thing,  as  it  was  written 
quite  out  of  order.  I  affected  ignorance,  and  asked  him  to- explain. 
He  said  that  those  petitions  had  to  be  written  in  the  third  person 
singular,  that  I  had  departed  from  that  regulation  and  written  in 
the   first  person :  I  should  put  a  "  he "  or  a  "  petitioner "  in  any 


0' 'Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  183 

place  where  I  had  an  "  I."  The  schoolmaster  was  a  very  nice  little 
man,  a  perfect  gentleman,  as  civil  and  as  kindly  spoken  in  anything 
he  had  to  do  with  us  as  it  was  possible  for  man  to  be.  I  did  not 
like  to  be  trifling  with  him,  and  I  told  him  plainly  that  I  had  used 
the  "he"  in  that  part  of  the  petition  which  asked  anything — viz.,  in 
the  first  line,  "  The  petition  of  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  Humbly 
sheweth,  That  your  attention  is  requested  to  the  following."  All  I 
wanted  from  the  Secretary  of  State  was  attention  to  my  story,  and 
that  story  I  had  to  tell  in  a  narrative  style.  I  spoke  to  the  school- 
master as  respectfully  as  I  could,  and  he  very  politely  said,  "  Oh, 
very  well,  very  well,  you  possibly  know  best  what  to  do.  I  don't 
pretend  to  instruct  you,  but  to  discharge  my  duty.  Go  on  as  you 
please."  I  thanked  him,  and  finished  my  writing  without  his  hav- 
ing anything  more  to  say  to  me.  I  did  not  relax  my  efforts  to  o-et 
this  petition  into  the  world,  and  lest  the  copy  of  it  which  I  had 
written  in  the  "  Think  well  on  It  "  should  be  seized,  I  set  to  work 
at  writing  another  copy  of  it  on  closet-paper.  I  used  to  write  four 
or  five  sheets  every  evening,  and  pass  them  to  Jerry  O'Donovan 
next  morning  to  have  them  placed  in  the  hiding-hole. 

One  evening  that  I  was  asked  to  shave  I  commenced  to  pare  my 
pencil  with  the  razor.     I  took  a  furtive  glance  towards  the  door, 
and  there  I  saw  the  eye  at  the  spy-hole.     I  kept  looking  at  it,  hold- 
ing the  razor  in   one  hand  and  the  pencil  in  another,  and  it  kept 
staring  at  me.    Immediately  the  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and  Warder 
Russell  stood  before  me,  asking — "  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  " 
"  Only  putting  a  point  on  this  bit  of  pencil  with  a  razor."     "  And  is 
that  the   use  you  make  of  the  razor  ?  "     "I  have  nothing  else  to 
point  my  pencil  with."     "  And  who  allows  you  a  pencil  ?      Where 
did  you  get  that  pencil."     "  Oh,  that's  a  thing  I  am  not  allowed  to 
tell    you."    "  Give  me  that  razor   and  pencil  out  of  your  hands." 
He  took  them,  went  out,  locked  the  door,  opened  it  a  minute  after 
with   two    or   three    other  warders,  and  ordered  me   to  come  on. 
I  went  with  them.     They  took  me  into  an  unoccupied   cell  at  the 
other  side  of  the  hall  and  gave  me  orders  to  strip,  which  orders 
I  obeyed.     They  searched  my  clothes  inch  by  inch,  and  found  noth- 
ing till  they  came  to  the  pocket  of  the  jacket,  out  of  which  they 
drew  three  or  four   sheets  of  the  paper  I  had  been  writing  on. 
"  What's   this  ? "    asked    the  discoverer.       "  Don't  you   see,"    said 
I,  "  that  is  my  closet  paper."     "  But  what  is  this  written  on  it  ?  " 
"  Oh,  you  can  make  that  out  by  your  '  larnin '." 
Orders  were  issued  to  march  me  off  to  the  punishment  cells,  and 
there  I  was  lodged  till  I  was  taken  before  the  Governor  next  day. 
I  was  charged  with  misusing  the  razor  and  paper  given  me,  with 
having  forbidden  articles  im   my  possession,  and  with  many  other 
things  connected  with  these  offenses,  such  as  insolence,  impudence, 
disobedience,  and  insubordination.     Asked  what  I  had  to  say,  I  said 
I  would  give  my  reply  in  writing ;  as  I  would  not  get  writing  mate- 
rials, I  said  nothing,  and   the   Governor  told     me   this  was  such  a 


184  O**  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

serious  case  lie  would  not  adjudicate  upon  it  himself,  but  send  it  be- 
fore the  Directors,  and  send  me  into  the  punishment  cell  on  light 
diet  until  they  were  heard  from.  After  three  or  four  days,  I  was 
sentenced  to  seventy-two  days  on  bread  and  water,  and  an  order 
from  the  Directors  read  to  me  to  the  effect  that  I  was  not  to  be  sup- 
plied weekly  with  the  regular  supply  of  waste  paper,  but  was  to  re- 
ceive some  from  the  officer  every  time  it  was  necessary  "  for  purposes 
of  nature."  Such  was  the  delicate  way  they  put  it.  The  reader 
may  not  consider  my  feelings  in  detailing  matters  of  this  kind,  and 
may  not  entirely  believe  me  when  I  say  I  could  never  approach 
one  of  those  officers  to  ask  him  for  the  paper  which  he  every  day  got 
for  me  without  feeling  a  kind  of  humiliation  that  I  was  the  occasion 
of  having  the  discharge  of  such  a  duty  put  upon  any  ft  llow-being. 
I  took  the  scraps  of  paper  to  my  cell,  and  wrote  upon  them  as  much 
as  I  could  of  my  petition  with  the  little  three-eight  bits  of  lead  that 
escaped  detection  in  the  seams  of  my  clothes.  I  had  no  seat  or  table 
in  those  punishment  cells,  and  if  I  stood  or  sat  anywhere  only  in  one 
position  the  officer  looking  through  the  spy-hole  would  see  me. 
That  position  was  sitting  on  the  floor  with  my  back  to  the  door,  and 
how  to  write  here,  without  a  book  or  a  table  to  lay  the  paper  on,  was 
the  question.  "  Necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention."  My  shoes 
were  taken  from  me,  but  instead  of  them  I  got  a  pair  of  old  slippers. 
I  planted  one  of  those  on  my  knees ;  the  sole  of  it  turned  up- 
wards answered  me  for  a  table,  and  thuswise  I  wrote  what  got 
out  into  the  world,  and  brought  on  the  sham  inquiry  by  the 
sham  commissioners,  Knox  and  Pollock.  I  was  at  work  again 
with  my  companions,  but  our  masters  determined  that  we  should 
have  no  peace.  The  Governor  called  to  the  quarry,  and  saying  he 
heard  some  talking  amongst  us  as  he  was  approaching,  brought  the 
officers  to  account  for  allowing  us  the  privilege  of  speech.  We  went 
to  dinner,  and  after  returning  to  work,  Jones,  one  of  the  officers,  said 
he  should  report  seven  or  eight  of  us  next  day.  Some  of  us  asked 
him  if  he  had  orders  to  do  so,  and  he  was  honest  enough  to  say  he 
had.  Luby,  O'Leary,  O'Connor,  Kenealy,  and  a  few  others,  told 
him  to  take  down  their  names,  and  he  did  so.  I  had  no  occasion  to 
tell  him,  for  when  there  was  a  report  wanted  and  ordered  I  knew 
that  I  would  get  the  honor  of  being  in  the  crowd.  This  Jones  was 
a  very  honest  fellow,  honest  towards  us  and  towards  his  em- 
ployers. He  was  a  Welshman,  and  a  military  pensioner.  He  got 
into  a  difficulty,  on  account  of  which  he  lost  his  situation.  A  pris- 
oner and  an  officer  had  some  altercation  on  the  works  ;  they  came 
to  blows ;  the  prisoner  got  the  better  of  the  officer.  Jones,  who  was 
in  charge  of  a  gang  of  men  near  by,  ran  to  the  officer's  rescue,  and 
made  the  prisoner  prisoner,  but  as  he  did  not  use  his  sword  on  the 
captive  and  cut  him  down  instead  of  tying  him  up,  he  was  given  to 
understand  that  he  was  not  fit  for  his  situation,  and  had  better 
resign,  which  he  did.  Before  he  left  the  prison  he  told  us  the  cir- 
cumstances one  Sunday  that  he  had  us  out  at  exercise,  observing, 


0  )  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  185 

"  I  thought  it  enough  to  do  my  duty  by  saving  the  officer  without 
killing  the  prisoner."  Thinking  that  he  was  in  a  disaffected  or  dis- 
gusted state  of  mind  at  his  being  thus  treated,  I  suggested  the  ad- 
visability of  testing  him  to  see  if  he  would  take  out  a  letter  from  me 
if  I  wrote  one.  Mike  Moore  approached  him  on  the  question,  and 
he  proved  faithful  to  his  employers.  He  would  take  out-  a  verbal 
word  of  remembrance  from  any  one  of  us  to  any  of  our  friends,  he 
would  tell  them  of  the  state  of  our  health,  or  anything  that  way, 
but  he  did  not  think  it  would  be  honorable  for  him  to  do  the  other 
thing.  We  respected  his  scruples  and  did  not  press  him.  Just  then 
we  were  in  communication  with  some  invisible  agent  who  offered  to 
act  as  a  medium  between  us  and  the  outer  world.  Our  shoes  were 
left  in  our  cells  every  working  day,  and  Cornelius  Dwyer  Keane 
found  a  note  in  one  of  his  on  a  Saturday  evening.  This  note  stated 
that  the  writer  had  some  sympathy  with  us,  and  would  convey  any 
message  to  our  friends,  and  deliver  us  anything  received  from  them. 
Con's  shoes  would  be  the  post-office,  and  he  would  call  there  next 
day  for  a  reply.  A  requisition  was  made  on  him  for  a  pencil,  and 
the  order  was  left  in  the  shoe  ;  next  day  it  was  gone,  and  the  day 
after  the  pencil  was  placed  in  the  post-office.  I  suggested  that  the 
papers  I  had  written  should  be  given  to  him,  but  I  was  overuled 
by  the  few  others  who  were  in  the  secret.  Any  publicity  would 
cause  renewed  vigilance,  and,  perhaps,  bring  about  a  change  of  all 
the  officers  about  our  ward,  and  it  was  feared  our  unknown  agent 
may  be  taken  out  of  our  reach.  It  was  decided  to  get  in  some 
tobacco  and  money  first,  before  we  did  anything  in  the  way  of  get- 
ting an  account  of  our  treatment  published,  and  I  had  to  acquiesce. 
But  trouble  came  hot  and  heavy  on  me  a  few  days  after,  and  con- 
tinued for  a  few  years.  I  was  taken  out  of  the  society  of  my  friends, 
and  never  heard  how  they  fared  with  their  postmaster. 

The  report  that  Jones  said  was  against  seven  or  eight  of  us  did 
not  come  on  the  day  he  stated ;  it  was  delayed  a  few  days,  and  then 
John  O'Leary,  Thomas  Clarke  Luby,  John  Kenealy,  Cornelius 
Keane,  James  O'Connor,  and  a  few  others  with  myself  were  taken 
barefooted  before  the  Governor  and  charged  with  speaking  while  at 
work.  Some  of  them  got  off  with  a  reprimand  and  the  loss  of  a  few 
"  marks."  John  O'Leary,  Thomas  Clarke  Luby,  and  John  Ken- 
neally  got  each  twenty-four  hours  on  bread  and  water,  and  James 
O'Connor  and  myself  were  sentenced  to  seventeen  days  on  bread  and 
water,  with  the  additional  punishment  that  when  this  time  had  expired 
we  were  not  to  be  allowed  to  work  with  our  own  party,  but  sent 
into  another  gang.  The  seventeen  days  passed  ;  we  were  taken  from 
our  cells  and  conducted  into  a  yard  where  we  never  stood  before. 
A  gang  of  about  forty  prisoners  were  drawn  up  in  line.  James  was 
placed  at  one  end  of  it  and  I  at  the  other.  We  were  marched  off  to 
the  quarries,  and  when  the  order  was  given  to  "break  off"  for 
work,  James  and  I  sloped  towards  each  other  with  the  intention  of 
having  our  blocks  near  each  other.     Immediately  that  we  did,  the 


180  O*  Donovan  Eoxsa's  Prison  Life. 

officer  in  command  called  me  to  a  block  in  one  corner  of  the  field, 
and  told  me  to  work  there.  I  then  saw  him  go  to  James  and  take 
him  to  the  other  corner  which  was  farthest  away  from  mine  and  fix 
him  there.  That  was  defeating  our  desire  to  have  a  word  with  each 
other,  and  I  growled  in  spirit.  My  first  thought  was  to  throw  down 
my  hammer  and  pitch  their  work  to  the  devil,  but  second  thoughts 
came  on,  and  brought  with  them  the  probability  of  there  being 
gome  means  to  be  fo.md  amongst  these  English  prisoners  whereby  I 
might  be  able  to  carry  out  my  design  of  communicating  with  the 
world.  They  were  hard  characters  most  of  them,  thieves,  garotters, 
and  every  class  of  criminal  that  grows  in  English  society.  When 
the  warder  had  given  instructions  to  James,  he  returned  to  give  me 
mine.  He  toid  me  I  was  to  speak  to  no  other  prisoner  on  the 
works ;  wrhen  I  wanted  instructions  I  was  to  ask  him  for  them- 
When  I  wanted  help  to  lift  a  stone  on  the  block,  the  prisoner  next 
to  me  would  help  me,  and  when  he  wanted  help  to  remove  his  stone 
I  was  to  help  him.  The  first  evening  passed  off  pretty  well,  and  in 
Bpite  of  all  the  warder's  vigilance  I  got  a  chance  to  make  a  few 
inquiries  as  to  whether  I  could  get  anything  taken  out  to  the  world 
or  brought  in  from  it.  I  was  told  yes,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
work  quietly  amongst  these  till  I  could  accomplish  my  purpose. 
One  of  them  asked  me  if  I'd  like  a  chew  of  tobacco,  and  on  my 
whispering  yes,  he  said  to  stick  close  by  him  as  we  were  leaving 
work  that  evening,  and  he  would  pass  it  to  me.  I  did  so,  and  he 
kept  his  word.  What  he  gave  me  would  sell  for  two  loaves  of 
bread  in  the  prison,  but  the  poor  fellow  never  asked  me  for  fee  or 
reward  for  it,  and,  moreover,  promised  me  a  bigger  plug  to-morrow. 
It  was  about  the  size  of  a  shirt  button,  and  I  kept  it  between  my 
fingers  as  I  was  going  into  the  prison.  I  intended  to  get  some 
means  of  passing  it  to  John  O'Leary,  but  instead  of  being  taken  to 
my  cell,  I  was  taken  right  straight  to  the  bath-house,  in  order  to 
bathe.  I  stripped  with  an  officer  looking  at  me,  and  as  he  had  his 
head  one  side,  I  let  the  bit  of  tobacco  fall  on  the  floor.  When  I 
was  in  the  bath  he  took  hold  of  my  clothes  and  searched  them ;  his 
eye  fell  on  the  black  thing  on  the  floor,  and  he  picked  up  my  bit  of 
tobacco.  After  examining  it  he  ordered  me  to  dress  immediately, 
and  conducted  me  to  a  punishment  cell.  I  was  left  there  till  dinner 
hour  next  day,  and  then  sentenced  to  seventy-two  hours  on  bread 
and  water,  on  a  charge  of  having  tobacco  in  my  possession.  I 
came  out  after  my  three  days  and  three  nights,  and  was  surprised 
to  learn  that  my  new  associates  were  aware  of  what  had  happened 
to  me.  They  had  opportunities  of  learning  things  that  political 
prisoners  had  not,  and  many  of  them  knowing  that  I  must  be 
hungry,  had  been  making  provision  to  feed  me.  One  of  them 
spared  a  loaf,  another  of  them  spared  a  loaf  and  a  piece  of  meat, 
and  another  brought  a  piece  of  a  pudding  for  me.  The  whisper 
was  passed  to  me  to  ask  leave  to  go  to  the  closet,  and  to  go  there 
quickly  after  another  man  came  out.     I  went  and  found  the  loaf  of 


O' Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  187 

bread  and  piece  of  meat  which,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say,  I  ate,  and 
if  I  had  a  slack  belly  coming  out  to  work  that  morning,  I  had  a  full 
one  going  in  that  evening.  There  was  one  Irishman  in  the  party, 
he  was  from  Blackpool,  and  was  undergoing  a  sentence  of  seven 
years  for  striking  an  officer  of  his  in  the  English  army.  He  was  a 
fine  hearty  fellow  about  six  feet,  with  an  innocent,  honest  looking 
face.  He  took  occasion  to  come  to  the  water  tub  for  a  drink  as  I 
went  there  for  the  same  purpose.  I  did  not  see  him  till  I  heard 
the  whisper,  •'  God  help  you,  I'll  bring  you  out  a  loaf  to-morrow." 
As  I  turned  away  I  looked  into  his  face  to  see  who  spoke,  and  the 
tears  were  streaming  down  his  cheeks  as  they  stream  down  mine 
now  at  the  recollection  of  these  little  acts  of  kindness  from  men 
who  were  brandtd  as  the  vilest  characters  in  creation.  Yet  I  re- 
fused to  work  amongst  them,  but  that  refusal  was  dictated  by  a 
desire  to  resent  the  acts  of  a  Government  that  would  make  no  dis- 
tinction between  political  and  other  prisoners.  They  classed  us  as 
they  classed  their  criminals,  and,  as  many  of  these  often  said  to  me, 
they  treated  us  worse.  They  would  make  us  feel  degradation, 
putting  us  in  association  with  them,  and  however  humility  may 
become  a  man  in  any  position  of  life,  I  had  the  rashness  to  trample 
it  under  foot  when  these  mean  English  legislators  required  it  from 
me  under  the  circumstances  I  speak  of. 

The  man  who  was  detailed  to  help  me  in  the  party  was  not  a  very 
agreeable-looking  companion ;  he  had  a  very  ill-looking  countenance, 
and,  to  add  to  the  unfortunate  fellow's  misfortune,  he  was  blind  of  an 
eye.  He  wanted  me  to  assist  him  to  put  a  stone  on  his  block,  and 
when  he  addressed  me  with  "  Here,  mate,  give  us  a  hand  with 
this,"  I  laid  my  hammer  on  the  block,  and,  addressing  the  warder, 
said,  "Here,  governor,  I  don't  think  I'll  do  anymore  work  to-day." 
"  What's  that  you  say  ?"  roared  he.  "  I  think  you  heard  me,"  said 
I.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  you're  not  going  to  work  ?"  "  I  do." 
"  Then,  I  tell  you  that  you  will  have  to  work  ;  take  that  hammer  in 
your  hand."  "  No,"  said  I,  putting  as  much  of  the  growl  into  the 
monosyllable  as  I  could.  He  turned  away  from  me  and  sent  for  a 
superior  officer.  Donald  Bane  came,  and  much  the  same  kind  of 
words  passed  between  him  and  me.  Seeing  it  was  no  use  to  be  at 
me,  he  ordered  me  into  punishment  cells,  where  I  was  duly  stripped 
and  searched.  At  dinner  hour  I  was  brought  before  the  Deputy- 
Governor,  Major  Hickey.  He  told  me  the  Governor  was  absent, 
and  he  hoped  that  I  would  get  on  quietly  in  his  absence ;  he  asked 
me  to  go  to  work,  and  I  refused  unless  he  sent  me  to  my  own 
party ;  he  said  he  had  no  alternative  but  to  give  me  twenty-four 
hours  on  bread  and  water.  Next  day  I  was  sent  out  again  and 
learned  the  agreeable  intelligence  that  one  of  the  prisoners  was  in 
communication  with  parties  who  would  send  out  any  communica- 
tions we  had  to  give.  I  had  very  little  written  but  what  was  in  the 
hands  of  my  friends  in  the  other  quarry,  which  I  could  not  get  then, 
and  I  determined  to  set  to  work  immediately  to  write  more.     I  was 


188  C* Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

put  in  possession  of  paper  and  pencil,  which  I  tried  as  well  as 
possible  to  conceal.  I  struck  work  again  for  the  purpose  of  getting 
into  the  punishment  cell,  where,  alone,  I  had  an  opportunity  of 
writing.  The  little  bits  of  pencil  and  the  few  scraps  of  paper  I  had 
escaped  scot-free,  and  on  the  sole  of  my  slipper,  while  on  bread  and 
water,  I  wrote  something  which  I  passed  to  James  O'Connor  when 
I  came  out.  James  passed  it  to  the  prisoner,  and  I  heard  nothing 
about  it  till  Knox  and  Pollock  came  to  me  in  Millbank  Prison  eight 
months  afterwards  on  a  Commission  of  Inquiry,  and  gave  me  to  un- 
derstand that  this  last  thing  I  speak  of  as  having  written  had 
got  into  the  press. 

[copyright  secured.] 
Here  is  the  letter  as  I  find  it  printed  in  the  Dublin  Irishman,  but 
I  supply  a  few  sentences  that  my  wife  could  not  make  out  when 
she  was  copying  it  for  the  paper.     It  was  addressed  to  the  London 
/Star,  but  that  journal  would  not,  it  seems,  publish  it : 

A   VOICE    FROM    THE    DUNGEON REVELATIONS    OF    PRISON    LIFE. 

["  Every  philanthropic  work  that  issues  from  the  English  press 
repeats  the  name  of  Howard  as  one  of  England's  glories,  because 
Howard  did  much  to  expose  the  wretched  state  of  prisoners  of  his 
day.  Following  his  example,  Mr.  Gladstone  indignantly  denounced 
the  Neapolitan  system  of  prison  discipline.  Englishmen  pride  them- 
selves on  their  sympathy  with  the  sufferings  of  political  prisoners. 
Unhappily  theirs  is  a  telescopic  vision  which  sees  the  motes  in  Boris- 
boola  Gha,  but  not  the  beams  in  England.  We  commend  the  sub- 
joined revelations  of  prison  life  to  English  philanthropists,  to  Mr. 
Gladstone,  and  Mr.  Dickens — have  they  ever  read  anything  more 
exquisitely  sad  of  its  kind  ?  We  commend  it  to  Mr.  Blake  and  Mr. 
Bagwell,  the  only  two  of  the  Irish  members  in  whose  hearts  one 
spark  of  humanity  seems  to  abide,  one  thought  courageously  de- 
livered in  words,  for  these  homeless  imprisoned  fellow  men.  Above 
all  things,  we  appeal  to  every  man  who  has  a  heart  to  mark  this  : 
Mr.  O'Donovan  Rossa  has  written  the  revelation  to  a  London 
Liberal  paper  (whose  liberalty  has  suppressed  it)  for  one  express 
and  sacred  purpose — to  clear  his  name,  as  a  husband  and  a  father, 
from  an  imputation  as  cruel  as  it  was  unutterably  stupid  and  improb- 
able. Under  cover  to  another  prisoner's  mother  he  attempts  to  send  a 
letter  to  his  own  wife  ;  it  is  intercepted,  and  he,  a  man  with  a  life 
sentence  over  him,  is  accused  of  writing  to  intrigue  with  that  other 
prisoner's  wife.  Moreover,  this  slander  is  whispered  about  and  told 
to  that  prisoner.  Therefore,  outraged  in  his  most  sacred  feelings  as 
a  husband  and  a  father,  and  finding  it  impossible  to  obtain  redress 
from  the  officials,  O'Donovan  Rossa  appeals  to  the  hearts  and  public 
opinion  of  Englishmen  and  Irishmen.  In  doing  so,  in  making  this 
appeal,  to  protect  his  honor — the  honor  of  a  father  before  his  family 
— he  may  have  become  liable  to  punishment.  We  ask  Mr.  Gladstone 
and  Earl  Derby  if  they  are  willing  to  bear  the  responsibility  of  this 


O' 'Donovan  Hossa?s  Prison  Life.  189 

—we  ask,  is  there  no  member  in  Parliament  to  speak  a  word  for 
humanity's  sake  ?  " — Dublin  Irishman.] 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  STAE. 

Sie — I  commenced  this  scroll  on  the  19th  of  January,  hut  whether 
I  am  ever  to  finish  it,  or  whether  it  will  ever  reach  your  hand,  I 
cannot  say  at  present.  The  first  days  I  came  here  I  could  have 
written  a  very  interesting  account  of  prison  life — if  my  cares  and 
occupation  permitted — at  least  there  was  plenty  material  to  make  an 
interesting  sketch  of  in  the  hands  of  those  English  philanthropists 
who  do  so  much  good  by  holding  open  some  of  the  continental 
prisons,  and  allowing  the  English  people  to  take  a  peep  at  the  polit- 
ical victims  within. 

Every  week,  since  my  removal  here,  has  only  increased  the 
material  and  lessened  my  ability  to  discharge  in  a  creditable  man- 
ner my  duty  of  correspondent.  I  call  it  a  duty,  because  it  is  in- 
cumbent on  some  one  to  enlighten  the  English  people  as  to  the 
treatment  of  political  prisoners  at  Portland,  and  I  have  a  life 
interest  in  the  matter.  Time,  and  paper,  and  the  vigilance  of  my 
goalers  oblige  me  to  be  brief  and  almost  to  confine  myself  to  the 
detail  of  one  particular  occurrence  which,  falsely  charged  in  the 
prison  director's  book  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  affects  my  moral 
character,  and  urges  me  to  hazard  every  risk  to  set  myself  right. 

On  the  26th  October  I  finished  a  letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State, 
in  which  I  gave  him  an  idea  of  the  wanton  insult  we  were  daily 
subject  to.  At  a  future  time  the  rulers  might  say — "  Oh,  we  knew 
nothing  of  all  this ;  it  was  all  done  by  the  governor  of  the  prison, 
and  we  have  dismissed  him." 

Mr.  Gladstone  wrote  a  pamphlet  showing  that  Neapolitan  politi- 
cal prisoners  were  treated  in  the  same  manner  as  thieves  and  mur- 
derers. I  offered  to  show  Mr.  Gladstone,  or  any  one  else  sent,  that 
Irish  political  prisoners  are  treated  worse  than  thieves  and  mur- 
derers in  England. 

About  the  end  of  October  I  was  told  that  for  a  trifling  compen- 
sation, as,  under  present  circumstances,  a  letter  would  be  forwarded 
to  my  family,  and  seeing  that  I  was  prohibited  from  writing  to  or 
hearing  from  my  wife,  I  availed  of  the  offer.  Being  supplied  with 
writing  materials  on  the  4th  of  November,  I  prepared  a  copy  oi 
the  letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  a  letter  to  my  wife,  both 
addressed  as  follows : 

"  Mrs.  Mary  Moore,  Denzille  street,  Dublin,  for  Mrs.  O'D."  I  did 
not  address  directly  to  Mrs.  O'Donovan,  as  I  had  some  fear  of  post- 
office  interference. 

My  correspondence  was  arrested ;  I  was  ushered  into  a  .punish' 
ment  cell,  and  next  day,  stripped  of  cap,  jacket,  handkerchief,  boots 
and  belt,  was  ushered  into  the  Governor's  presence,  I  was  deter- 
mined to  take  the  punishment  due  to  the  offense  as  graciously  as 
possible ;  but  I  was  rather  surprised  to  find  myself  called  on  to 


100  0? Donovan  7?oi-sa?j  Prison  DJfe. 


w 


answer  to  a  charge  of  "  being  detected  in  an  endeavor  to  carry  on 
an  intrigue  with  the  wife  of  another  prisoner."  In  answer  to 
"  Have  you  anything  to  say  ?  "  I  replied  that  the  accusation  was 
wrong,  and  if  he  produced  the  letters  he  would  see  it  was  necessary 
to  change  the  charge  when  it  was  not  properly  taken  down.  He 
told  me  "  I  was  not  to  dictate  to  him.'1  "  nor  to  instruct  him  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duties,"  and  "  did  I  deny  or  admit  the  charge."  I 
said,  "  as  it  stands  I  deny  it."  He  finally  said.  "  Can  you  deny  your 
letter  to  the  Secretary  of  State  ?  "  and  on  my  saying,  "  I  admit  or 
deny  nothing  so  far,"  he  satisfactorily  said,  "  That  will  just  do  me," 
and  wrote  that  as  my  reply  while  I  protested.  He  told  me  the  case 
was  postponed  to  the  next  day.  I  thought  it  was  to  afford  him  time 
to  look  over  the  letters.  The  governor  told  me  afterwards  that 
"the  board  of  directors  had  seen  my  letter  to  Mrs.  Moore,  and 
knew  from  it  what  kind  of  character  I  was."  If  the  board  of  directors 
did  see  the  letter  in  question,  and  if  they  did  not  see  in  every  sen- 
tence that  it  was  written  to  my  wife,  I  would  give  very  little  for 
their  brains. 

When  I  asked  Mr.  Clifton  to  look  at  the  superscription  and  he 
would  see  "  for  Mrs.  O'Donovan,"  he  said  "  that  was,  he  believed, 
merely  a  subterfuge."  He  told  me  he  himself  had  written  the  re- 
port to  the  Secretary  of  State  and  Board  of  Directors,  charging  me 
with  endeavoring  to  carry  on  an  intrigue  with  the  wife  of  a  fellow- 
prisoner,  Mr.  Moore. 

I  would  take  it  for  granted,  that  Mr.  Clifton  having  on  record 
in  his  book  the  letters  to  Mr.  Michael  Moore  from  his  wife  and 
mother,  would  know  that  my  letter  to  "  Mrs.  Mary  Moore  "  was 
addressed  to  Mr.  Moore's  mother,  who,  I  learned,  occasionally  saw 
Mrs.  O'Donovan.  The  name  of  Michael  Moore's  wife  is  Catherine, 
and  she  does  not  live  with  her  mother-in-law. 

The  day's  postponement  of  my  case  was  merely  time  for  the 
Governor  to  consider  my  sentence,  which  happened  to  be  seventy- 
two  hours  in  solitary  confinement  on  bread  and  water.  This  means 
eight  ounces  of  bread  and  a  pint  of  water  at  five  o'clock,  morning 
and  evening.  There  is  no  light  or  even  seat  allowed.  This  1  did 
not  deem  too  hard  for  the  offence,  but  for  one  thing  or  another 
arising  out  of  it.  Thirty-four  days  and  nights  in  the  cells  on  bread 
and  water  and  low  diet,  with  the  cold  of  the  season,  have  been  pro- 
ductive of  the  natural,  may  I  say  the  intended  result,  on  the  body 
at  least,  and  the  flesh  on  my  hands  is  visibly  turning  into  corrup- 
tion. 

I  asked  the  doctor  if  he  would  consider  it  unreasonable  that  I'd 
be  put  to  work  indoors,  in  a  shed,  anywhere  out  of  the  frosty  air,  at 
the  same  time  showing  my  hands.  He  said  they  were  not  bad 
enough  yet. 

When  a  prisoner  is  in  punishment  the  Governor  and  doctor  come 
to  him  once  a  day,  to  ask  if  he  has  any  complaint.  The  person  is 
ordered  "  to  stand  to  attention,"  and  give  the  salute  of  raising  the 


O' 'Donovan  JRosscfs  Prison  Life.  191 

hand  to  the  uncovered  head.  I  "  stood  to  attention "  for  both 
gentlemen  the  first  day,  and  the  second,  but  the  herald  preceded  the 
Governor  the  next  day,  and  reminded  me  that  I  had  not  given  the 
salute  on  the  former  occasions,  and  that  Mr.  O'Connor  got  three 
days'  bread  and  water  in  a  dark  cell  for  neglecting  this,  one  time. 

When  the  Governor  came  I  went  through  all  the  manoeuvres. 
He  asked  me  had  I  any  complaint,  and  I  replied  that  I  complained 
the  Governor  falsified  a  charge  against  me  ;  that  he  refused  to 
correct  it,  and  that  he  refused  to  receive  my  reply  on  examination. 
He  would  not  take  it  down.  I  reminded  him  that  one  of  the  rules 
was  that  he  should  be  at  all  times  willing  to  receive  any  charge 
from  a  prisoner,  but  he  turned  away  contemptuously,  saying,  "  You 
can  see  our  Director  if  you  like."  I  thought  this  a  poor  return  for 
my  abject  "  koo-too-ing,"  and  I  began  to  consider  what  was  the 
object  of  obliging  me  to  go  through  this  operation  in  a  place  where 
civility  and  patience  are  as  much  as  might  be  expected  from  me 
It  was  not  necessary  for  any  purpose  of  discipline,  for  I  was  alone; 
when  not  alone,  discipline  is  necessary,  and  I  have  not  refused  in 
presence  of  others  to  obey  such  orders.  While  undergoing  punish- 
ment in  solitary  confinement,  I  began  to  think  these  salaams  meant 
nothing  more  than  my  humiliation,  and  with  that  came  into  my 
mind  all  the  vile  words  of  wanton  insult  heaped  on  me  from  time  to 
time  by  Director  and  Governor,  such  as — "  Do  you  think  I  can  be- 
lieve you  convicts  ?"  "  I  do  whal  I  can  for  you  fellows."  "  You're 
better  fed  than  when  you  fed  yourselves."  "  Not  alone  in  this 
world  should  you  be  punished,  but  in  the  next."  "  Thirty  years  ago 
you'd  have  been  hanged."  "  You  were  not  sent  here  to  be  too  sensi- 
tive." "  Nothing  can  make  }tou  more  degraded  than  you  are." 
The  latter  observation  was  used  by  the  Governor  when  I  went  be- 
fore him  on  the  following  occasion  :  I  fell  under  a  barrow  of  stones 
one  day  and  lacerated  one  of  my  fingers,  when  the  officer  abused 
me,  and  ended  by  saying,  "  I  wTas  such  a  man  as  would  suck  another 
man's  blood."  I  went  before  the  Governor  to  know  if  this  language 
towards  me  was  in  the  order  of  the  officer's  duty.  When  I  spoke 
to  the  Director  about  it,  he  said  it  was  "  frivolous."  The  doctor's 
visit  found  me  in  the  humor  of  these  rebellious  thoughts.  I  was 
stretched  upon  my  clar  bog  dael  (soft  deal  board),  with  the  Bible  in 
my  hand,  which  every  cell  contains,  when  the  door  opened  and  the 
officer  cried,  "  Stand  to  attention  and  salute  the  doctor."  I  sat  up 
and  said,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  officer,  but  if  the  doctor  is  anxious  to 
see  me  on  my  legs,  he  will  come  in  and  help  me  on  them,  as  he 
seems  willing  enough  to  help  me  off  them.  I  suppose,  doc!  or,  you 
are  aware  that  this  treatment  is  somewhat  akin  to  that  which  Cole- 
ridge says,  '  Kills  so  slowly  that  none  call  it  murder.'  "  He  said  if 
T  studied  common  sense  instead  of  Coleridge  it  might  be  better  for 
me.  When  I  was  taken  before  the  Governor  next  day,  I  was 
charged  with  gross  insolence  to  the  doctor  ;  expressions  were  put 
into    my   mouth   that  I    did  not   make  use  of,  and  when  I  told  the 


192  O' *  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

exact  words  that  passed,  the  Governor  replied,  "  I  know  very  well 
what  you  said ;  but  I  will  not  be  putting  down  your  phillipic? 
here." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  yow  know  what  I  said,  and  you  put  in  the 
charge  what  you  know  I  did  not  say." 

"  I'll  have  you  punished  for  insolence  if  you  do  not  confine  your- 
self to  the  charge.  Have  you  anything  to  say  as  to  why  you  did 
not  salute  the  doctor  ?" 

"I  have,  if  vou  take  it,"  I  rejoined. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Whenever  I  have  been  taken  before  the  doctor  of  this  prison 
I  have  been  treated  with  insult.  On  the  present  occasion  I  cannot 
understand  paying  salaams  to  a  doctor  who  daily  called  to  see  if  I 
were  progressing  favorably  under  treatment  which  he  knew,  if  in- 
vestigated, was  calculated  to  break  down  my  health." 

"  This  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  charge." 

Then,  to   make  a  long    story  short,  1  told  him  his  book  was 
nothing  more  than  a  lie,  and  I  was  sent  back  to  bread  and  water. 

Next  day,  when  he  came  round,  I  told  him  such  treatment 
merited  nothing  but  contempt.  For  this  I  got  three  additional 
days'  bread  and  water,  in  a  cell  darker  than  night,  and  the  succeed- 
ing day  I  was  sent  out  to  work. 

I  learned  that  the  Governor  had  been  talking  to  others  about  my 
writing  to  Mrs.  Moore ;  and  having  a  wife  and  six  children,  the 
possibility  of  such  a  report  getting  into  print  was  not  pleasant  to 
me,  I  sent  for  the  priest,  and  he,  by  his  manner,  made  me  suspect 
that  he  even  believed  it.  The  Governor,  on  being  asked  by  Mr. 
Moore  for  permission  to  write  to  his  mother,  remarked :  "  Moore, 
do  you  know  there  is  another  man  in  the  prision  carrying  on  a 
correspondence  with  your  wife  ?"  I  sent  for  the  priest  again,  and 
it  was  twelve  days  before  he  came.  I  begged  him  to  do  something 
that  would  bring  on  an  investigation  of  the  charge,  as  I  was  anxious 
to  shield  my  moral  character  from  defamation.  I  laid  hold  of  my 
Bible  to  give  him  my  last  letter  from  my  wife,  in  order  that  he  might 
compare  it  with  the  arrested  letter,  but  it  had  been  taken  out  of  my 
cell.  I  got  it  afterwards  from  the  warder.  I  suppose  my  not 
having  the  letter  confirmed  the  priest's  suspicions,  as,  though  I 
asked^him  to  call  next  day,  he  did  not  come  until  I  sent  for  him 
again. 

When  the  Director  came  I  was,  with  others,  brought  from  my 
work,  and  when  waiting  outside  his  office  I  was  led  away  again, 
the  Director  refusing  to  see  me,  as  the  Governor  subsequently 
told  me. 

One  day,  when  I  was  out  of  punishment,  I  renewed  my  appli- 
cation to  the  Governor  to  correct  this  intrigue  affair  on  the  books. 
He  would  do  nothing.  Then  I  asked  him  to  put  on  record  a  charge 
against  himself  of  defaming  my  character. 

He  would  not  let  me  write  to  the  Board  of  Directors  or  to  the 


0' 'Donovan  J2ossa?s  Prison  Life.  193 

Secretary  of  State,  and  I  ended  my  charge  by  saying  lie  had  belied 
me,  and  treated  me  in  a  mean  manner.     This  was  in  the  hearing  of 
some  of  my  fellow-prisoners,  who  were  waiting  to  see  the  Governor 
He  ordered  me  into  a  punishment  cell,  and  I  had  nothing  to  do  but 
to  take  my  punishment,  and  pray  for  patience  and  forbearance. 

On  the  24th  of  December  I  got  three  days'  bread  and  water  and 
fourteen  days  on  low  diet,  for  talking  to  Mr.  Keane  while  at  work. 
He  was  let  off  with  a  reprimand.  This,  with  other  things,  reminds 
me  of  what  one  of  the  officers  said  to  Mr,  Moore  one  time  of  me — 
"  The  course  Rossa  pursued  at  his  trial  will  not  serve  him  here." 
Yet  I  could  not  say  that  my  fellow-prisoners  are  not  treated  as 
badly  as  I.  Recently  I  created  a  necessity  for  being  ordered  seven- 
teen days  in  the  cells,  by  saying  to  an  officer  who  worried  me,  that 
"  while  God  leaves  me  the  use  of  my  tongue,  all  the  rulers  of 
the  kingdom  would  not  prevent  me  from  speaking  when  I  thought 
proper."  A  prison  rule  prevents  us  speaking  under  various  circum- 
stances, but  not  while  at  work ;  and  we  were  told  once  that  we 
should  speak  loud  enough  for  the  officer  to  hear,  lest  we  should  be 
planning  something. 

Mais  nous  avons  change  tout  cela!  for  we  are  now  not  allowed 
to  speak  high  or  low. 

It  seems  that  our  tormentors  were  not  at  all  pleased  by  our 
affecting  to  take  our  punishment  lightly.  It  also  seemed  to  have 
become  necessary  for  some  object  that  we  should  be  represented  on 
the  books  of  the  prison  as  "  refractory."  Reports  had  to  be  got  up 
against  us  by  the  officers,  and  the  Governor  can  specially  order  us 
to  be  reported,  as  he  admits  he  does,  in  order  to  make  up  his  books. 

The  three  first  of  the  seventeen  days'  punishment  I  had  for 
talking  while  I  was  at  work,  the  Governor  visited  to  know  if  I  had 
a  complaint.  I  had  a  complaint  each  day.  The  last  was  against 
the  Director,  for  neglect  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  All  to  no 
purpose.  The  succeeding  day  I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  notice 
him,  and  on  the  3d  and  5th  of  January  I  was  arraigned  for  treating 
him  with  contempt,  and  in  answer  to  "  what  have  you  got  to  say  ?" 
I  said,  "  In  coming  to  ask  me  have  you  any  complaint,  and  in  re- 
fusing to  take  a  complaint  from  me,  you  make  a  mockery  of  your 
duties.  Under  these  circumstances  I  am  ordered  to  pay  you 
salaams.  I  will  only  say  that  I  am  your  prisoner,  and  with  my 
body  it  seems  you  have  power  to  do  what  you  please,  but  my  mind 
and  soul  is  not  yours,  and  I  refuse  to  pay  you  the  required  salaam." 
He'd  not  take  down  a  single  word  I  said,  but  ordered  me  forty-eight 
hours'  bread  and  water.  I  was  already  "  doing  "  the  fourteen  days' 
punishment,  this  time  getting  twenty  ounces  of  bread  and  some 
gruel ;  but  he  stopped  this,  and  put  me  on  the  new  sentence,  which, 
in  constitutional  England,  looks  odd,  before  the  expiration  of  the 
original  seventeen  days. 

Some  Englishmen  have  written  very  humorously  on  a  Turkish 
system  of  punishment,  which,  after  a  man  is  bastinadoed,  obliges 
nim  to  salute  and  return  thanks  to  the  rmnishing  officer. 


194  O'*  Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life. 

"  I  don't  know  but  that  thirty  days  of  this  punishment  is  as  de- 
structive to  man's  health  as  fifty  bastinado  strokes.  Obliging  the 
man  to  salute  his  punisher  is,  in  the  civilized  world,  deemed  barba- 
rism, but  in  England  'tis  only  "  dscipline."  Besides,  there  is  in 
England  a  doctor  to  superintend  the  ruin  of  a  man's  health.  I 
could  understand  being  obliged  to  take  off  our  caps  to  the  statue 
of  the  Lord  Lieutenant  every  day,  if  it  were  placed  in  our  path  to 
the  quarries,  or  to  kneel  to  an  effigy  of  his  if  placed  in  our  way. 
This  Herman  Gessler  did  at  Alforl,  and  imprisoned  Tell  for  not 
saluting  it.  I  can't  bring  myself  to  reli-h  these  salaams  to  my 
jailers  while  they  are  starving  me. 

Having  another  visit  irom  the  Director,  I  asked  him  to  bring  in 
the  Governor  and  receive  my  explanation,  as  I  was  anxious  to  clear 
my  character  of  the  charge  of  carrying  on  an  intrigue  here.  He 
said  "it  should  be  done  in  the  regular  manner,  and  as  I  was  under 
punishment,  he  could  not  do  anything  that  day."  "Then,"  said  I, 
"  according  as  it  suits  the  Govornor  I  can  be  in  these  cells  every 
time  you  visit  the  prisoners.  And  are  these  false  reports  against 
me  to  the  Board  of  Directors  and  Secretary  of  State  to  remain  <  n 
record  in  the  public  offices  of  the  kingdom?"  He  could  not  help 
that,"  he  told  me,  "  he  only  thought  there  could  be  no  desire  to 
punish  me  it  I  had  not  violated  the  rules."  I  thought  differently, 
and  to  show  him  by  one  small  instance  the  animosity  I  experienced, 
told  him  that  I  had  occasionally  on  my  slate  some  notes  fr-m  a 
book  allowed  to  me,  and  the  officer  used  to  come  and  blot  them  out. 
He  asked  why  I  did  not  report  the  matter  to  the  Governor.  I 
said  the  Governor  must  be  a  party  to  it.  I  told  him  the  officer 
kept  a  cell  on  the  lighted  side  of  the  hall  vacant  for  five  weeks 
sooner  than  let  me  into  it,  and  the  Governor  said  it  was  serving  me 
right.  There  were  no  windows  in  one  side  of  this  hall  we  occupy  d, 
and  when  a  man  in  a  window  cell  was  sent  to  hospital  or  to 
"the  cells,"  the  practice  wTas  to  send  from  the  dark  side  the 
man  who  had  the  lowest  number  on  the  list.  I  wTas  that  man,  and 
when  Mr.  Mulcahy  was  removed  to  Ireland  a  lighted  cell  wag  made 
vacant,  it  was  kept  vacant  rather  than  allow  me  into  it.  We  are 
now  in  a  hall  containing  punishment  cells.  Up  against  the  window 
is  a  sheet  of  peforated  metal,  which  helps  to  secure  the  felon  and 
exclude  the  sunlight.  When  I  am  allowred  a  book  on  Sunday,  I 
might,  at  least,  be  allowed  as  much  daylight  as  would  enable  me 
to  read  it,  but  I  am  not.  The  Irish  political  prisoner  in  England 
must  content  himself  with  seeing  the  excellence  of  the  English 
convict  system  in  print,  but  feeling  none  of  it. 

To  add  to  my  punishment,  I  am  sent  to  work  amongst  a  gang 
of  English  felons,  awray  from  my  own  party.  James  O'Connor  is 
sent  with  me,  but  we  are  put  at  opposite  ends  of  the  gang,  lest  we 
should  have  a  chance  of  exchanging  a  sympathetic  word  or  look 
with  each  other. 

The  day  1  wras  sent  amongst  these  English  convicts  I  refused  t<7 


O' 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  195 

work  with  them,  and  I  intended  to  take  the  starving  process  in 
preference,  but  coming  up  for  judgment,  and  finding  the  Governor 
was  absent  and  the  Deputy  Governor  was  acting  in  his  place,  and 
being  told  by  him  that  he  was  "  sorry  to  punish  me,  but  that  no 
alternative  was  left  him,  he  should  follow  the  orders  left  regarding 
me  by  the  Governor,"  I  changed  my  mind.  I  got  two  days'  bread 
and  water  and  no  bed.  I  went  to  work  next  day  among  them,  and 
determined  to  get  this  fugitive  letter  out  and  write  to  my  wife, 
and  by  so  turning  the  tables  on  them  a  little,  treat  the  Government 
and  the  Governor  as  they  deserve.  My  mother  lives  in  America. 
She  is  old  ;  and  I  would  not  even  be  allowed  to  write  one  letter  to 
her.  I  have  six  children.  My  father-in-law,  at  the  time  he  wrote 
to  me,  in  last  September,  had  five  of  them,  and  the  part  of  the 
letter  relating  to  the  children  would  not  even  be  read  for  me.  My 
wife  asked  me  questions  as  to  debts  due  to  me,  and  hoped  I  would 
be  allowed  to  answer  them.  The  Governor  told  me  to  write  on  my 
slate  what  I  had  to  say.  I  did,  and  a  month  afterwards  he  said 
"I  could  not  be  sending  your  love  letters."  But  these  are  small 
things,  and  as  I  could  fill  a  volume  with  such  trifling  annoyances, 
I  will  stop.  I  remember,  at  a  hotel  one  night,  meeting  three  Eng- 
lish tourists,  Messrs.  Fitzgerald,  and  Lord,  and  Ledward  of  Man- 
chester, and  talking  politics  with  them.  Mr.  Ledward  said  the 
Irish  were  despised  because  they  did  not  fight  for  their  freedom, 
and  I  partly  agreed  with  him.  If  I  could  have  told  him  how  Eng- 
land treated  her  political  prisoners'  he  would  have  been  insulted. 
I  suppose  nature  comes  to  the  assistance  of  man  when  he  suffers  for 
what  he  belives  a  true  and  holy  principle — liberty — and  that  the 
mind  sustains  the  body  in  its  sufferings. 

1 '  Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  mind 
Brightest  in  dungeons — Liberty  thou  art  ; 
For  there  thy  habitation  is  the  heart — 
The  heart  which  love  of  thee  alone  can  bind  ! 
And  when  thy  sons  to  fetters  are  consigned, 
To  fetters  and  the  damp  vault's  dayless  gloom, 
Their  country  conquers  with  their  martyrdom, 
And  freedom's  fame  finds  wings  on  every  wind  !" 

If  you  find  this  an  unconnected  letter,  you  will  not  wonder.  It 
is  harder  to  write  here  than  on  a  battle-field,  for  my  ears  must  be 
open  to  every  lightest  tread,  and  my  attention  forced  from  my 
subject  and  fixed  upon  those  who  are  watching  me. — I  remain,  sir, 
yours,  O'Donovan  Rossa. 

P.S. — Four  additional  days'  bread  and  water.  Some  of  my 
fellow-prisoners  have  reduced  two  stone  weight ;  I  have  not 
weighed  myself  lately,  but  even  forty  days  of  our  "  lightening  pro- 
cess "  in  the  cell,  since  the  4th  November,  makes  me  feel  light- 
bodied,  and  light-hearted  too,  thank  God.  I  wish  you  would  call 
for  a  copy  of  the  "  letter  to  Mrs.  Moore  ;"  I  do  not  recollect  what 
it  contains,  but  I  know  my  feelings  towards  my  wife,  and  I  venture 


196  O' *  Donovan  Bossd's  Prison  Life. 

to  say,  the  man  in  authority  who,  after  reading  it,  could  write  an 
official  report  to  the  effect  that  it  was  intended  for  any  other  man's 
wife,  is  a  fool  or  a  rogue.  One  word  more  to  show  how  sharply 
the  wind  blows  here.  There  is  a  temporary  water  closet  on  the 
quarry  where  the  Irish  felons  work ;  at  first  it  was  cleared  every 
three  weeks.  One  day  they  told  me  I  should  do  it  next.  Seeing 
the  Govenor,  I  asked  was  this  work  expected  from  me,  he  said 
"  yes  ;"  the  officer  learning  this,  and  knowing  it  was  a  disagreeable 
task,  said  he'd  make  two  of  us  clear  it  every  Monday  morning  in 
future,  and  he  has  been  as  good  as  his  word." 

When  I  had  this  written  and  delivered  it  to  the  prisoner  for 
transmission,  I  determined  to  go  on  the  "  strike  "  again  by  refusing 
to  work  amongst  the  thieves.  I  was  now  very  much  emaciated 
and  reduced  in  strength.  The  weather  was  intensly  cold,  and  I 
felt  as  if  every  blast  of  wind  was  cutting  through  me.  Whatever 
little  flesh  was  on  my  hands  seemed  to  be  rotting  off  them.  I  re- 
member that  one  morning  I  saw  the  doctor,  and  showing  him  the 
sores  on  my  hands,  asked  him  if  he  could  not  get  me  work  indoors. 
Looking  at  them  his  reply  was — "  No,  they  are  not  bad  enough 
yet.  I  will  order  you  a  pair  of  gloves."  And  being  taken  to  the 
officer  who  had  charge  of  such  articles,  I  got  two  jane  mittens  that 
covered  the  hands.  They  had  thumb  "  fingers  "  only,  all  the  other 
fingers  were  free  to  play  together  as  they  protruded  from  the  large 
holes  at  the  end  of  my  fashionable  gloves.  As  I  got  them  from 
the  officer  and  fitted  them  I  smiled,  and  asked,  "  What's  the  price  ?" 
and  he  good-humoredly  said,  "  Oh,  never  mind,  we'll  charge  them 
to  your  account."  One  morning,  in  making  up  my  bed,  I  abstracted 
the  single  blanket  and  wrapped  it  round  my  body  inside  my  shirt. 
I  felt  very  comfortable  for  a  couple  of  days,  but  the  third  day  it 
was  discovered,  and  I  had  my  twenty-four  hours  on  bread  and 
water  for  "  converting  the  property  of  the  prison  to  improper  uses." 
Next  morning  when  I  went  to  work  I  thought  it  was  easier  to 
stand  anything  than  what  I  was  suffering  from  cold.  I  laid  my 
hammer  on  the  block  and  made  up  my  mind  that  this  would  be  the 
last  time  I  would  work  in  the  party.  I  don't  know  how  many 
days  I  had  been  in  punishment  before  something  occurred  that 
called  for  a  new  change  of  tactics  on  the  part  of  my  masters.  The 
papers  which  my  companions  had  concealed  in  the  shed  in  which 
they  worked  were  by  some  agency  discovered ;  they  found  the 
wall  torn  down  one  day  when  they  went  out  from  dinner,  and  the 
next  morning  James  O'Connor  and  I  were  marched  out  to  work  in 
company  with  them.  All  this  time  the  whole  of  them  were  work' 
ing  inside  the  shed,  but  James  and  I  would  not  be  allowed  in;  we 
were  ordered  to  place  two  blocks  some  twenty  yards  outside,  and 
there  we  were  kept  in  the  cold  blast,  looking  at  the  others  under 
shelter.  My  first  impulse  was  to  kick  against  this,  but  the  friends 
told  me  the  papers  were  discovered,  and  I  worked  on  till  dinner 
time,  knowing  that  something  was  to  turn  up.     And  so  it  did. 


Ol 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  197 

James  O'Connor  and  I  had  been  away  from  this  place  for  about  a 
month,  and  the  object  of  bringing  us  back  there  now  was  to  legally 
identify  me  with  placing  the  papers  there. 

When  dinner-hour  came  I  was  brought  before  the  bar  of  justice, 
and   charged   with    destroying    prison    property,  with    converting 
prison  property  to  improper  use,   with  having  an  ink-bottle  and 
pens   and   pencil  concealed  in  the  prison,    and  with   many   other 
things  that  made  an  indictment  as  long  as  was  made  against   me 
before  conviction.     I  was   asked  what  I  had    to   say,  and  I   said 
"Nothing."     This  was  so  serious  a  case  that  the   Governor  said  he 
would  not  decide  the   punishment   himself,    but  would    send   the 
matter  before  the  Board  of  Directors,  and  until  they  were  heard 
from  I  should  remain  in  prison — in  the  punishment  cells.     In  three 
days  an  answer  came  that  the  Governor  was  to  mete  out  to  me  the 
extreme  measure  of  the  law,  which  was  three  days  on  bread  and 
water  and  twenty-five  days  on  punishment  diet.     Then  there  were 
special  orders  which  were  read  to  me  from  the  Directors.     One  was 
that  I  be  deprived  of  the  use  of  all  books,  including  the   Bible,  for 
six  months.     I  had  defaced  prison  property.     I  had  written  on  a 
"  Think  Well  On  It,"  and  on  a  prayer-book,  but  had  I  a  lair  trial  I 
would  have  beaten  them  on  this  head,  for  whereas  all  books  in  the 
prison  are  branded  with  the  prison  mark,  the  ones  I  had  used  were 
not  branded  at  all ;    there  was  no  evidence  of  their  being  prison 
property,  and  all  the  books  supplied  to  me  had  been  found  correct, 
as  marked  on  my  card.     But  fair  play  for  an  Irishman  in  prison,  or 
out  of  prison,  is  out  of  the  question.     Twenty-eight  consecutive 
days  was  the  biggest  dose  of  bread  and  water  I  had  yet,  and  the 
time  hung  pretty  heavily  on  my  hands,  with  nothing  to  read  and 
very  little    to  eat.      I   wrote   another    surreptitious    letter,   ready 
to    avail    of    any    opportunity  that    offered    for   sending    it    out. 
These      very      considerate       people  gave     me       work       to       do 
while    on    bread     and    water:     they     put     a     pound    of    oakum 
into    my    cell  in  the   morning,    and   I   left  it  there  all  day  with- 
out picking  a  thread   of  it,  and  in  the  evening  they  took  it  out 
again.     I  refused  to  pick  unless  they  gave  me  the  regular  labor 
diet  to  eat,  and  every  second  day  they  deprived  me  of  the  pint  of 
stirabout  and  the  pound  of  potatoes  which  a  man  gets  while   on 
what  is  called  "  punishment  diet."     This  I  told  the  Governor  was 
quite  unconstitutional.     He  should  not  bring  in  a  second  sentence 
to  encroach  on  the  first  one  until  the  twenty-eight  days  were  up, 
but  he  told  me  he  could  do  what  he  liked  when  I  would  not  work. 
One  day  he  came  to  my  cell  with  the  doctor  and  Deputy-Governor, 
the  door  was  opened,  and  he  asked  me  the  usual  question — "  Had  I 
anything  to  say  to  him  ?"  "  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  want  you  to  place  on 
your   books    a   report   against    the    Governor    for    not    allowing 
me  to  see  the  Director  the  last  time  he  was  here,  though  I  was 
not    under    punishment."       "  I'll    do    no    such   thing,"    said    he. 
*'  Well,"  added  I,  "  you're    a   mean,    contemptible   creature,   and 


198  0' *  Donovan  JZossa's  Prison  Life. 

I  suppose  I'll  have  to  suffer  being  the  sport  of  such  a  silly  fool.'1 
"  What's  that  he  says  ?     What's  that  he  says  ?  "  turning  to  the  doc- 
tor.    "  Sport  of  a  fool,"  said  the  doctor,  turning  on  his  heel,  and 
away  the  three  of  them  walked.     Next  day  came  the  usual  charge 
of  "  gross  insubordination,"  and  the  usual  sentence  of  punishment. 
I  did  not  leave  out   of  my  head  the  book  record  of  "  writing  to 
another  man's   Avife,"  nor  did  I  cease  making  efforts  to   have   it 
altered.     I  saw  the  priest   and  minister — that  is,  the  Catholic  and 
Protestant  chaplains.     I  explained  to  them  all  I  thought  necessary, 
and  they,  as  far  as  I  know,  took  no  steps  to  see  me  justified.    Indeed, 
from  something  that  happened,  I  would  not  wonder  if  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Poole  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the  charge  was  true.     I  kept  my 
wife's  letters  in  a  large  Bible  that  I  had  in  my  ordinary  cell  before 
the  sentence  was  passed  of  depriving  me  of  the  Bible,  and  it  hap- 
pened that  while  I  was  in  the  punishment  cells  the  oflicer  in  charge 
of  the  other   cells   took  my  letters  out  of  the  book.     I   told  the 
Catholic  chaplain  one  day  that  I  would  show  him  these  letters,  and 
that  he  could  compare  them  with  the  surreptitious  one  alleged  to  be 
written   to  Moore's  wife.     I  was  to  be  off  of  punishment  next  day, 
and  he  was  to  call  to  my  ordinary  cell  at  dinner-hour.     He  did  call. 
I  took  the  Bible  to  give  him  the  letters,  and  they  were  not  in  it.     I 
looked  confused,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  considered  me  guilty.     He 
went  away,  saying  he  would  call  again,  and  did  not  call.     I  did  not 
see  the  priest  for  some  time,  and  I  thought  I  would  have  recourse  to 
the  plan  of  preparing  a  charge  against  him,  in  the  hope  of  bringing 
about  an  investigation  that  would  clear  me  of  the  charge  of  carry- 
ing on  a  love  intrigue.     I  asked  the  Governor  to  take  it ;   he  asked 
me  what  it  was,  and  I  said — "  I  am  registered  here  as  a  Catholic. 
A  charge  is   made  against  me  affecting  the  morality  of  my  char- 
acter ;   the  charge  is  false.     It  is  the  priest's  duty  to  protect  me  in 
this  matter.     I  have  brought  the  case  before  him,  and  he  has  done 
nothing.      I  charge  him  with  neglect  of  duty."     "I  won't  take  the 
charge,"  said  he,  and  the  door  was  locked.     Next  day  the  priest 
came  into  my  cell,  and  appeared  rather  angry  that  I  should  offer 
such  a  charge  against  him.     I  tried  to  show  him  that  I  meant  no 
harm — not.ing  more  than  to  do  something  which  would  bring  about 
an  inquiry  that  would  give  me  an  opportunity  of  clearing  myself. 
He  took  it   quite  serious,  and   would  not  have  any  explanation  I 
could  make  as  satisfactory,  and  I  told  him  in  the  end  that  if  he  took 
it   so  seriously  he  may,  and  that  I  did  consider  it  was  his  duty  to 
protect  his   congregation  when  their  moral  character  was  assailed, 
and  to  take  some  steps  to  help  a  prisoner  to  repel  calumnies  such  as 
were  hurled  at  me.     We  parted  and  I  did  not  see  our  priest  since. 

Twenty-eight  days  on  bread  and  water  in  solitary  confinement  is 
a  long  time.  No  book  to  read,  no  "kitchen"  with  your  food  but 
water,  and  very  little  food  at  that ;  no  one  to  speak  to,  no  face  to 
look  at  but  the  face  of  a  jailer,  yet  I  had  to  manage  as  best  I  could 
to  pass  the  time.     Books  that  [  had  read  when  I  was  a  little  boy 


O'Donomn  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  199 

came  to  my  assistance,  and  I  smile  at  thinking  of  the  silly  things  a 
person  will  do,  or  at  least  I  did,  to  kill  time.  I  think  it  was  in 
"Schinderhannes,  the  Robber  of  the  Rhine,"  that  I  read  of  one  Karl 
Benzel  dancing  with  the  chains  around  his  feet,  and  when  I  used  to 
be  lying  on  the  bare  boards  pinched  with  hunger  and  shivering  with 
cold,  Karl  Benzel  would  come  into  my  mind,  and  I'd  jump  up  and 
go  through  that  ten  shillings'  worth  of  dance  which  I  learned  from 
Thady  O',  till  I  could  barely  give  a  shuffle  from  sheer  exhaus- 
tion. Then  I'd  stretch  again  and  go  about  making  verses.  It  was 
in  this  mood  and  with  such  poetic  surroundings  that  I  strung  to- 
gether some  rhymes  about  Jillen  Andy.  I  made  one  verse  one  day, 
and  kept  it  in  my  memory  till  the  next  day,  when  I  made  another, 
and  when  I  had  the  story  of  "  Jillen  "  I  kept  tacking  on  some  other 
verses  to  it  till  I  had  a  string  of  twenty-two  or  three,  and  then 
I  entertained  myself  by  reciting  them  in  my  cell.  The  warder 
would  cry  out,  "  Drop  that  noise,"  and  I'd  keep  going  on.  He'd 
put  his  eye  to  the  spy-hole  and  I'd  keep  declaiming,  taking  no 
notice  of  his  attentions.  I  claimed  that  that  cell  was  my  house, 
that  every  man's  house  was  his  castle,  and  so  long  as  I  did  not 
make  as  much  noise  as  would  wake  the  children  next  door  I  had 
a  reasonable  right  to  enjoy  myself  as  best  I  could.  I  made  up 
my  mind  for  the  worst.  I  saw  there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  reason 
them  into  fair  treatment,  and  I  felt  considerably  relieved  and 
strengthened  when  I  made  up  my  mind  to  cease  to  try.  But  now 
about  "  Jillen  Andy.''  I  often  asked  Charles  Kickham,  when  we 
were  on  the  Irish  People,  to  poetise  this  story  of  "  Jillen."  I  knew 
there  was  no  one  living  man  could  clothe  it  in  Irish  feeling  as  he 
could,  but  he  put  the  task  back  on  myself.  My  genius  did  not  lie 
that  way.  But  as  idleness  is  the  mother  of  mischief,  I  fell  into  the 
sin  of  spoiling  a  very  fine  subject  for  a  poem  by  making  verses  on  it 
when  I  had  nothing  else  to  do  in  prison.  Jillen  Andy  lived  at  the 
other  side  of  the  street  in  Rosscarberry  when  I  was  a  child.  Her 
husband,  Andy  Hayes,  was  a  linen  weaver  and  worked  for  my  father 
ere  I  was  born.  He  died,  too,  before  I  came  into  the  world,  but 
when  I  did  come  I  think  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Jillen  as  soon 
as  I  did  that  of  my  mother.  Jillen  was  left  a  widow  with  four  help- 
less children,  and  all  the  neighbors  were  kind  to  her.  The  eldest 
of  the  sons  'listed,  and  the  first  sight  I  got  of  a  red  coat  was 
when  he  came  home  on  furlough.  The  three  other  sons  were 
Charley,  Thade,  and  Andy.  When  I  was  about  the  age  of  twelve 
Charley  was  looking  at  Lord  Carberry's  hounds  hunting  one  day. 
Going  through  some  lonesome  "  airy  "  place  he  got  a  "  puck  "  from 
one  of  the  fairies.  He  came  home  lame,  his  leg  swelled  a*  "big  as 
a  pot."  It  had  to  be  amputated  by  Doctor  Donovan  and  Doctor 
Fitzgibbon,  and  he  went  about  on  crutches  till  he  died  in  the  year 
'65.  Andy  'listed,  and  died  in  Bombay,  and  Thade  and  his  mother 
fell  victims  to  the  famine  legislation  of  '47.  Thade  met  me  one 
day,  and  spoke  to  me  as  I  state  in  the  following  lines.     I  went  to 


200  C Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life. 

the  graveyard  with  him.  I  dug,  and  he  shovelled  up  the  earth  till 
the  grave  was  about  two  feet  deep.  Then  he  talked  about  its  being 
deep  enough,  that  there  would  be  too  great  a  load  on  her,  and  that 
he  could  stay  up  and  "  watch  "  her  for  some  time.  By-and-by  we 
saw  four  or  five  men  coming  in  the  church-gate  with  a  door  on  their 
shoulders  bearing  the  coffinless  Jillen.  She  was  laid  in  the  grave. 
Her  head  did  not  rest  firmly  on  the  stone  on  which  it  was  pil- 
lowed, and  as  it  would  turn  aside  and  rest  on  the  cheek  when  I 
took  my  hands  away  from  it,  one  of  the  men  asked  me  to  hand 
him  the  stone.  I  did  so,  and  covering  it  with  a  red  spotted 
handkerchief,  he  took  out  of  his  pocket,  he  gave  it  to  me  again, 
and  I  settled  Jillen's  head  steadily  on  it.  Then  I  was  told  to 
loose  the  strings,  to  take  out  a  pin  that  appeared,  to  lay  her 
apron  over  her  face,  and  come  up.  To  this  day  I  can  see  how 
softly  the  man  handled  the  shovel,  how  quietly  he  laid  the  earth 
down  at  her  feet,  how  the  heap  kept  rolling  and  creeping  up 
until  it  covered  her  head,  and  how  the  big  men  pulled  their  hats 
over  their  eyes. 


JILLEN  ANDY. 


"  Come  to  the  graveyard  if  you're  not  afraid, 

I'm  going  to  dig  my  mother's  grave,  she's  dead, 
And  I  want  some  one  that  will  bring  the  spade, 

For  Andy's  out  of  home,  and  Charlie's  sick  in  bed." 

Thade  Andy  was  a  simple  spoken  fool, 
With  whom  in  early  days  I  loved  to  stroll, 

He'd  often  take  me  on  his  back  to  school, 
And  make  the  master  laugh  himself,  he  was  so  droll. 

In  songs  and  ballads  he  took  great  delight, 
And  prophecies  of  Ireland  yet  being  freed, 

And  singing  them  by  our  fireside  at  night, 
I  learned  songs  from  Thade  before  I  learned  to  read. 

And  I  have  still  "  by  heart "  his  "  Colleen  Fhune," 
His  "  Croppy  Boy,"  his  "  Phoenix  of  the  Hall," 

And  I  could  "rise "  his  " Rising  of  the  Moon," 
If  I  could  sing  in  prison  cell — or  sing  at  all. 

He'd  walk  the  "  eeriest  "  place  a  moonlight  night, 

He'd  whistle  in  the  dark — even  in  bed. 
In  fairy  fort  or  graveyard,  Thade  was  quite 

As  fearless  of  a  ghost  as  any  ghost  of  Thade. 

Now  in  the  dark  churchyard  we  work  away, 
The  shovel  in  his  hand,  in  mine  the  spade, 

And  seeing  Tha:le  cry  I  cried  myself  that  day, 

For  Thade  was  fond  of  me  and  I  was  fond  of  Thade. 


O* Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life.  201 

But  after  twenty  years  why  now  will  such 

A  bubbling  spring  up  to  my  eyelids  start  ? 
Ah  !  there  be  things  that  ask  not  leave  to  touch 

The  fountain  of  the  eyes  or  feelings  of  the  heart. 

"  This  load  of  clay  will  break  her  bones  I  fear, 
For  when  alive  she  wasn't  over  strong. 
"We'll  dig  no  deeper,  I  can  watch  her  here, 
A  month  or  so,  sure  nobody  will  do  me  wrong." 

Four  men  bear  Jillen  on  a  door — 'tis  light, 

They  have  not  much  of  Jillen  but  her  frame 
Ho  mourners  come,  for  'tis  believed  the  sight 

Of  any  death  or  sickness  now  begets  the  same. 

And  those  brave  hearts  that  volunteer  to  touch 

Plague-stricken  death  are  tender  as  they're  brave, 
They  raise  poor  Jillen  from  her  tainted  couch, 

And  shade  their  swimming  eyes  while  laying  her  in  the  grave. 

I  stand  within  that  grave,  nor  wide  nor  deep, 

The  slender,  wasted  body  at  my  feet, 
What  wonder  is  it  if  strong  men  will  weep 

O'er  famine-stricken  Jillen  in  her  winding-sheet. 

Her  head  I  try  to  pillow  on  a  stone, 

But  it  will  hang  one  side,  as  if  the  breath 
Of  famine  gaunt  into  the  corpse  had  blown, 

And  blighted  in  the  nerves  the  rigid  strength  of  death. 

*  Hand  me  that  stone,  child."    In  his  hands  'tis  placed, 
Down-channelling  nis  cheeks  are  tears  like  rain, 
The  stone  within  his  handkerchief  is  cased, 
And  then  I  pillow  on  it  Jillen' s  head  again. 

**  Untie  the  nightcap  string,"  "  Unloose  that  lace," 
"  Take  out  that  pin,"  "  There,  now,  she's  nicely — rise, 
But  lay  the  apron  first  across  her  face, 

So  that  the  earth  won't  tonch  her  lips  or  blind  her  eyes." 

Don't  grasp  the  shovel  too  tightly — there  make  a  heap, 
Steal  down  each  shovelfull  quietly — there,  let  it  creep 

Over  her  poor  body  lightly  ;  friend,  do  not  weep, 
Tears  would  disturb  old  Jillen  in  her  last  long  sleep. 

And  Thade  was  faithful  to  his  watch  and  ward, 

Where'er  he'd  spend  the  day,  at  night  he'd  haste 
With  his  few  sods  of  turf,  to  that  churchyard, 

Where  he  was  laid  himself  before  the  month  was  past. 

Then  Andy  died  a  soldiering  in  Bombay, 

And  Charlie  died  in  Ross  the  other  day, 
Now,  no  one  lives  to  blush  because  I  say, 

That  Jillen  Andy  went  uncoffined  to  the  day. 

E'en  all  are  gone  that  buried  Jillen,  save 

One  banished  man  who  dead  alive  remains, 
The  little  boy  that  stood  within  the  grave, 

Stands  for  his  country's  cause  in  England's  prison  chains. 


202  (J  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

How  oft  in  dreams  that  burial  scene  appears, 
Through  death,  eviction,  prison,  exile,  home, 

Through  all  the  suns  and  moons  of  twenty  years — 
And  oh  !  how  short  these  years  compared  with  years  to  coma. 

Some  things  are  strongly  on  the  mind  impressed, 

And  others  faintly  imaged  there,  it  seems  ; 
And  this  is  why,  when  reason  sinks  to  rest, 

Phases  of  life  do  show  and  shadow  forth  in  dreams. 

And  this  is  why  in  dreams  I  see  the  face 

Of  Jillen  Andy  looking  in  my  own, 
The  poet-hearted  man — the  pillow-case, 

The  spotted  handkerchief  that  softened  the  hard  stone. 

Welcome  th^se  memories  of  scenes  of  youth, 
That  nursed  my  hate  of  tyranny  and  wrong, 

That  helmed  my  manhood  ira  the  path  of  truth, 
And  help  me  now  to  suffer  calmly  and  be  strong. 


And  suffering  calmly  is  a  trial  test, 

When  at  the  tyrant's  foot  and  felon-drest, 
When  State  and  master  jailer  do  their  best, 

To  make  you  feel  degraded,  spiritless,  opprest. 

When  barefoot  before  Dogberry,  and  when 
He  mocks  your  cause  of  'prisonment,  and  speaks 

Of  "Thieves,"  "State  orders,"  "No  distinctions"— then 
Because  you  speak  at  work — hard  bread  and  board  for  week*. 

Or  when  he  says,  "  Too  well  you're  treated,  for 
Times  were  you'd  hang  ; "  "  You  were  worse  fed  at  home ; " 
**  You  can't  be  more  degraded  than  you  are  ;  " 
"  You  should  be  punished  alf<o  in  the  world  to  come." 

When  sneer,  and  jeer,  and  insult  follow  fast, 
And  heavenward  you  look,  or  look  him  down, 

He  rages  and  commands  you  to  be  classed 
And  slaved  amongst  the  slaves  of  infamied  renown. 

When  England — worthy  of  the  mean  and  base, 
Smites  you  when  bound,  flings  outrage  in  your  face, 

When  hand  to  hand  with  thieves  she  gives  you  place, 
To  scoff  at  freedom  for  your  land  and  scattered  race. 

To  suffer  calmly  when  the  cowardly  wound, 
From  wanton  insult,  makes  the  veins  to  swell 

With  burning  blood,  is  hard  though  doubly  bound 
In  prison  within  prison — a  blacker  hell  in  hell. 

The  body  starved  to  break  the  spirit  down, 
That  will  not  bend  beneath  the  scourging  rod ; 

The  dungeon  dark  that  pearls  the  prisoner's  crown, 
And  stars  the  suffering  that  awakens  Freedom's  God. 


0'Donova?i  Rosso? 8  Prison  Life,  203 

Thus  all  who  ever  won  had  to  endure, 

Thus  human  suffering  proves  good  at  last, 
The  painful  operation  works  the  cure, 

The  health-restoring  draught  is  bitter  to  the  taste. 

'Tis  suffering  for  a  trampled  land,  that  suffering 

Bears  heavenly  fruit,  and  all  who  ever  trod 
In  Freedom's  path,  found  heavenly  help  when  offering 

Their  sacrifice  of  suffering  to  Freedom's  God. 


It  was  to  Michael  O'Regan  the  Governor  said  "  he  was  better  fed 
than  when  he  fed  himself;"  to  John  Haltigan  he  said,  "  not  alone  in 
this  world  should  we  be  punished  but  in  the  next;"  and  to  myself, 
"  that  I  could  not  be  more  degraded  than  I  was."  I  must  have  given 
an  awfully  black  look  at  him  when  he  told  me  this,  if  my  face  any 
way  indicated  the  contempt  that  was  in  my  mind.  I  think  now  that 
this  effort  to  degrade  us,  or  to  make  us  feel  degraded,  kept  up 
my  spirits  wonderfully;  there  was  a  kind  of  a  revolt  of  the  mind, 
it  became  insurgent,  rose  up  in  arms  and  resolved  to  support  the 
body. 

While  I  was  composing  the  foregoing  verses  I  made  an  attempt 
to  steal  a  Bible.  I  was  changed  once  a  week  from  one  punishment 
cell  to  another,  either  for  a  change  of  air  or  as  a  precaution  against 
escape.  The  warder  opened  my  door  one  morning,  ordered  me  to 
strip,  searched  myself  and  searched  my  clothes;  and  when  I  had  put 
on  my  shirt  he  said,  "Take  the  rest  in  your  hands  and  go  into  No. 
14."  I  went  in  ;  my  eyes  fell  on  a  Bible  that  lay  on  the  window, 
and,  quick  as  lightning,  I  laid  hold  of  it,  and  put  it  under  the  gutta- 
percha chamber  vessel,  which,  with  a  gutta-percha  pint,  is  the  only 
article  of  furniture  in  a  punishment  cell,  save  and  except  that  Bible, 
which  at  the  time  was  forbidden  to  me.  By-and-by  the  officer  came 
to  see  if  I  was  duly  installed  in  my  new  stall,  and  to  lock  the  door 
more  firmly  than  I  shut  it  by  slamming  it  out,  and  allowing  the 
spring  to  catch  me  in.  He  left  my  cell  without  noticing  anything 
amiss,  and  I  cannot  well  give  an  idea  of  the  delight  I  felt  in  thinking 
that  I  had  something  to  help  me  to  kill  time.  I  sat  down  on  the  floor 
with  my  back  to  the  door,  read  for  about  an  hour,  when  I  was 
startled  by  hearing  the  key  turn  in  the  lock.  The  officer  came  in, 
looked  around  and  asked,  "Isn't  there  a  Bible  in  this  cell?"  to 
which  I  grumblingly  replied,  "  There  ought  to  be  one  there,  if  the 
prison  rules  were  carried  out."  "  Have  you  a  Bible  en  your  per- 
son ?"  "  I  have  not.  "  "  Now  if  you  have  you  had  better  not  put 
yourself  to  the  trouble  of  stripping  again,"  and  saying  this  he  drew 
his  hands  all  over  my  person,  and  was  leaving  the  cell  with  a  look 
of  despair,  when  giving  the  gutta-percha  a  kick  my  hidden  treasure 
appeared  and  disappeared  with  him. 

I  think  my  reader  and  myself  have  had  enough  of  Portland 
Prison  by  this  time,  and  I  may  as  well  shift  my  quarters ;  indeed, 


204  CP  Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life. 

it  becomes  a  matter  of  necessity  with  me,  as  this  closing  scene 
will  show. 

I  was  under  punishment ;  I  refused  to  work,  and  refusing  I  got 
bread  and  water  every  second  day,  and  penal  class  diet  every  other 
day.  I  refused  to  go  before  the  Governor  to  hear  this  sentence 
of  "  bread  and  water"  pronounced  against  me,  as  he  refused  to  take 
down  my  words  in  reply  to  this  question  of"  What  have  you  got  to 
say  in  regard  to  this  charge  of  idleness  ?"  I  told  him  it  was  a  mock- 
ery to  be  bringing  me  before  him  and  asking  me  this  question, 
when  he  would  not  record  my  reply,  and  I  said,  "This  will  be  the 
last  time  I'll  make  my  appearance  in  your  presence.  You  can  order 
your  starvation  process  to  go  on  as  much  as  it  will  suit  the  interests 
of  the  Government,  but  leave  me  at  peace  in  my  cell."  "I  will  not, 
but  I'll  make  you  come  before  me  every  time  it  suits  me.  The 
second  next  day,  at  the  dinner  hour,  my  cell  door  opened  and  I  was 
ordered  before  the  Governor,  in  order  that  I  may  hear  him  order  I 
was  to  get  no  dinner.  I  refused  to  go.  Two,  three,  four,  and  five 
officers  came  ;  they  dragged  me  outside  the  door,  I  laid  hold  of  the 
iron  railings,  they  could  not  unloose  me ;  the  commander  of  the 
forces  cried  out  for  the  chain  handcuffs ;  one  of  the  officers  ran  down 
stairs,  and  there  was  a  cessation  of  hostilities  till  he  came  up  again. 
The  handcuffs  were  put  on,  they  pulled  the  long  chain,  but, 
unless  they  pulled  off  my  arms,  they  could  not  pull  me  away 
from  the  rails.  In  as  imperative  a  tone  as  I  could  command  I  cried 
out,  "  Here,  you  man  with  that  key,  I  order  you  to  open  these  irons 
instantly."  He  obeyed,  when  I  showed  him  that  I  had  one  of  the  iron 
bars  in  my  embrace.  I  was  tied  again  ;  the  five  or  six  of  them  laid 
hold  of  the  long  chain  and  pulled.  I  saw  resistance  was  useless ;  I 
walked  down  the  stairs  after  them,  and  they  led  me  in  monkey 
fashion  into  the  presence  of  his  Majesty  the  Governor.  He  had  been 
listening  to  the  noise,  and  with  the  dignity  of  ignorance  he  asked, 
"  Why  is  this  man  in  chains  ?"  Then  there  was  a  long  charge  of  my 
insubordination  and  insolence,  and  mockery  of  the  prison  authority. 
I  was  asked  what  I  had  to  say,  and  I  said  nothing.  I  was  sent  back 
to  my  cell  and  got  no  dinner  that  day. 

At  this  time  I  was  every  second  day  on  bread  and  water.  I  got 
my  eight  ounces  of  bread  at  half-past  five  in  the  morning,  and  I 
kept  this  without  eating  until  dinner  hour,  as  I  felt  it  lonesome  to 
Aear  the  dinner  bell  ring  and  have  nothing  to  eat.  You  may  talk 
poetically  or  metaphorically,  or  any  way  you  like,  of  having  your 
teeth  water  for  a  thing,  but  I  often  experienced  the  reality  when  I 
heard  these  bells  ring,  and  I  knew  that  the  whole  prison  was  eating 
while  I  had  nothing  to  eat. 

Two  days  had  passed  since  I  was  led  in  chains  before  the  Gov- 
ernor. At  dinner  hour  my  door  was  opened,  and  I  was  asked  to 
come  on.  I  refused  to  go,  but  on  being  told  that  it  was  not  to  go 
before  the  Governor  I  consented.  I  was  taken  before  the  clerk  of 
the  establishment  $  a  list  of  the  clothes  in  which  I  was  convicted  was 


C  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  205 

read  out  for  me  ;  and  on  being  asked  was  that  correct,  I  answered 
"  yes."  I  was  told  to  sign  the  book  and  I  did.  Let  not  my  rea- 
ders think,  as  I  thought,  that  I  was  going  to  get  these  clothes.  No, 
it  meant  only  a  change  of  quarters  for  me.  An  order  had  come  to 
convey  me  to  Millbank  Penitentiary  to  undergo  a  second  term  of 
solitary  confinement,  as  my  first  term  of  solitary  confinement  did 
not  seem  to  have  answered  the  desired  end.  I  was  a  "  refractory  " 
prisoner,  and  I  had  to  be  properly  broken  in  before  I  could  associ- 
ate with  Public  Works  convicts. 

As  soon  as  I  had  signed  the  book  I  was  taken  back  to  my  cell 
and  ordered  to  strip.  I  obeyed,  and  was  led  naked  into  another  cell, 
where  another  suit  of  clothes  was  prepared  for  me.  They  brought 
me  a  dish  of  water  in  which  to  wash  my  feet  before  I  dressed  my- 
self in  the  new  shoes  and  stockings  of  my  new  suit,  for  I  was  to  go 
as  clean  as  possible  to  my  new  prison,  so  that  my  condition  may  cast 
no  reflection  on  the  discipline  of  the  prison  I  had  left.  When  I  had 
dressed  I  was  told  to  hurry  on,  and  I  asked  if  I  was  to  get  no 
dinner  before  I  left  ?  None.  Then  I  said,  "  1  certainly  am  not 
going  on  a  journey  without  my  breakfast."  "  Come  on,  come  on, 
and  drop  that  kind  of  talk,  the  carriage  is  waiting  at  the  gate  for 
you."  "My  carriage  must  wait  until  I  get  my  breakfast,"  said  I, 
"and  you  may  as  well  take  it  easy."  "Didn't  you  get  your  break- 
fast at  half-past  five  o'clock  this  morning  ?"  "  Yes,  but  like  the 
Irishman  who  sometimes  took  dinner  for  tea,  I  take  breakfast  for 
dinner,  and  my  loaf  of  bread  is  still  untouched  in  my  cell."  One  of 
them  went  in  and  brought  me  out  the  eight-ounce  roll.  I  was 
asked  in  a  softer  tone  than  usual  to  put  it  in  my  pocket  and  I  could 
eat  it  in  the  carriage,  as  they  were  in  a  hurry  to  catch  the  train. 
I  obliged  them  in  this,  but  they  would  not  tell  me  where  I  was 
going  to.  "  Let  me  take  this  drink  of  water,"  I  said,  making  a 
move  towards  my  cell,  for  I  had  left  one  treasure  there  which  I  was 
exerting  my  wits  to  get  at.  There  was  tied  up  in  the  corner  of  my 
shirt  one  of  those  "  surreptitious  "  letters  that  I  had  treasured  as  a 
reserve  in  case  a  chance  offered  to  get  it  into  the  world,  but  I  had 
to  leave  it  in  its  hiding  place,  as  the  officers  followed  me  into  the 
cell,  and  I  never  heard  of  the  treasure  since.  Two  or  three 
times  I  meditated  throwing  it  over  the  wall,  and  take  chance  to 
have  some  sympathetic  or  mercenary  friend  find  it  ;  but  the  sur- 
prise came,  and  I  was  spirited  away,  leaving  my  week's  labor  be- 
hind me. 

As  I  was  passing  from  the  punishment  ward,  I  came  in  view  of 
the  place  where  the  Irish  party  worked.  I  stood,  and  very  seriously 
asked  "Pontius  Pilate,"  who  was  conducting  me,  if  he  would  not 
let  me  down  to  bid  good-bye  to  my  friends.  He  put  his  hand  on 
my  shoulder,  saying — "Come  on,  now  ;  I  thought  you  had  no  friends 
anywhere,"  and  I  turned  my  back  on  that  party  of  twenty-four,  who 
are  scattered  now  in  every  part  of  the  world,  and  many  of  them  in 
their  graves. 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 


MY  CARRIAGE  IN  WAITING MY  BREAKFAST FIGHT  FOR  MY  DINNER — - 

JOURNEY  TO  MILLBANK  PRISON,  LONDON THOUGHTS  OF  ESCAPE 

SUPPER RECEPTION     WARD INSTALLED    IN    OFFICE TAILOR- 
ING    AND    THEFT LETTER     WRITING — SCRUBBING   FLOOR PUMP 

HANDLE  AND  CRANK PUNISHED  FOR  NOT   DOING  TWO  THINGS  AT 

THE  SAME  TIME OAKUM  PICKING  AND  PICKING    COIR. 

When  I  went  outside  the  prison  gate,  I  found  my  carriage  wait- 
ing lor  me,  and  I  stepped  into  it  without  bidding  good-bye  to  the 
Governor  and  Deputy  Governor,  who  were  waiting  to  see  me  off. 
My  twro  keepers  came  in  after  me ;  the  horses  started,  and 
I  pulled  my  loaf  of  bread  out  of  my  pocket,  and  commenced  to  eat 
my  breakfast.  It  did  not  take  long  to  finish  it,  as  my  appetite  was 
particularly  good  at  this  time.  We  were  at  the  railway  station 
some  twenty  minutes  before  the  train  arrived  that  was  to  convey  us. 
My  keepers  marched  me  down  the  platform,  and  kept  me  standing  at 
a  distance  from  all  the  other  travelers.  A  restaurant  was  near  by, 
and  hearing  them  talk  of  dinner  I  asked  for  mine.  "What," 
said  White,  the  head  officer,  "  didn't  you  have  your  dinner  coming 
down  in  the  coach  ?"  "  No,  that  was  my  breakfast,  and  I'll  have  to 
get  my  dinner  now  as  I  am  travelling."  "  I  don't  think  you  will, 
for  I  have  orders  to  give  you  nothing  to  eat."  "  Well,  that  isn't 
fair.  I  left  the  prison  after  the  bell  ringing  for  dinner.  I  got  none, 
and  now  I  am  taken  on  a  journey  without  any  food."  "  We  can  not 
help  that,  we  must  go  by  our  orders."  "  Orders  or  no  orders,  if  I 
have  far  to  go,  and  that  I  get  no  food,  I  am  not  going  to  stand  it 
quietly,  now  that  I  am  outside  the  prison  Avails."  Then  there  was  a 
movement,  so  that  I  could  see  the  pistols.  The  whistle  of  the  train 
was  heard.  White  went  into  the  restaurant,  and  returned  with  a 
parcel ;  he  and  Green  conducted  me  into  a  compartment  of  the  rail- 
road car ;  as  others  were  coming  in,  they  wanted  to  stop  them,  re- 
quiring a  compartment  for  ourselves  three  alone ;  but  as  room  was 
wanted  we  had  to  make  some  for  others,  the  conductor  saying 
"  another  car  would  be  put  on  at  the  next  station,  and  we  could  have 
a  compartment  of  our  own."  When  we  left  the  island  of  Portland 
and  arrived  at  Weymouth  station,  this  arrangement  was  made,  and 
as  the  train  moved  White  unloosed  his  parcel,  the  contents  of  which 
turned  out  to  be  what  are  called  soda  cakes.  He  spilled  them  out 
on  the  seat,  and,  after  eating  some  of  them,  said,  "  Rossa,  you  can 
have  a  few  of  these  if  you  like."     "  Thank  you,  governor,"  said  I, 


Oy Donovan  Rossctfs  Prison  Life.  207 

and  handing  me  six  of  them  I  took  them.  Each  was  about  the  size 
of  a  penny,  and  it  wasn't  like  making  two  bites  of  a  cherry,  I  could 
make  one  bite  of  the  six,  so  ravenously  hungry  was  I,  but  decency 
prevailed  on  me  to  eat  moderately,  and  I  demolished  them  one  after 
one.  Four  more  of  them  remained  on  the  seat,  staring  at  me  for 
half  an  hour,  and  perhaps  I  staring  at  them,  till  White  said,  "  Per- 
haps, Rossa,  you  could  make  room  for  these  two,"  and  I  did  make 
room  for  them. 

By  no  act  of  mine  could  I  get  out  of  them  where  they  were  taking 
me,  but  after  traveling  for  about  four  hours  we  stopped  at  a  station 
where  there  was  a  delay  of  twenty  minutes  for  refreshment,  and  I 
could  guess  from  the  buzzing  around  that  we  were  bound  for  Lon- 
don. 

Wanting  to  stand  on  my  legs  and  look  around,  I  induced  them 
to  let  me  go  to  the  water-closet.  When  we  came  back  to  the  plat- 
form the  carriage  had  moved  away  in  order  to  come  back  on  another 
track.  The  passers-by  stared  at  me,  no  doubt  thinking  I  was  some 
notorious  burglar  or  thief.  They  might  have  admired  my  gray  dress, 
my  knee  breeches,  and  blue  stockings,  that  showed  of!  my  lank,  lean 
legs  to  genteel  advantage.  I  noticed  a  few  giving  sympathetic 
looks  as  they  passed  by.  I  thought  they  may  be  Irish,  and  I 
looked  inquiringly  at  them,  but  as  I  did  so  I  was  ordered  by  my 
keepers  to  turn  my  face  the  other  way,  and  obeying  orders  had  to 
turn  my  back  on  my  beholders. 

White,  the  superior  officer,  went  into  the  refreshment-room,  and 
after  a  little  delay  there,  came  out  with  a  glass  of  water  in  his  hand. 
Holding  it  out  to  me,  he  said,  "  Here,  you  may  be  thirsty,  and  I  am 
sorry  I  cannot  give  you  anything  better."  I  thanked  h  m,  and  after 
drinking  the  water,  gave  him  back  the  glass,  which  he  carried  into 
the  refreshment-room.  As  I  was  alone  with  one  officer,  I  thought 
what  a  chance  there  was  of  "  going  on  the  run,"  if  1  had  any  wTay 
of  getting  my  hands  out  of  the  irons.  Even  with  my  hands  tied  I 
am  sure  I  would  have  made  the  start,  only  a  thought  came  into  my 
head  that  I  would  have  a  better  opportunity  of  darting  off  when  I 
landei  L  on  the  station  in  London,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I'd  make 
the  attempt  at  escape  when  I  arrived  there,  come  what  would  of  it. 
There  is  no  use  in  your  saying  "What  a  foolish  idea  it  was,"  "  How 
silly  of  him  to  think  of  such  a  thing."  I  did  think  of  it  and  would 
take  action  on  the  thought  only  precautions  were  taken  that 
made  it  impossible.  You.  wise,  sensible  reader,  if  you  were  in  my  po- 
sition, might  find  your  wisdom  degenerating  into  the  "lolly"  I 
allude  to.  I  know  that  I  never  found  myself  unpossessed  of  it,  if 
any  chance  presented  itself  of  getting  out  of  my  cage.  The  great 
hardships  within  made  the  outside  danger  appear  very  little. 

The  train  that  moved  away  from  the  station  put  back,  and  I  was 
ordered  into  it. 

"  What !"  said  I,  "do  you  really  mean  to  say  that  you'll  take  me 
away  from  this  place  without  giving  mo  my  dinner?"      "  We  can't 


208  (J Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

give  you  any  dinner."  "  Then  I  can't  go."  "  Oh,  you  must."  "  No, 
not  willingly."  One  of  them  put  his  hand  gently  on  my  shoulder, 
saying,  "  Come  on,  there  is  no  use  giving  us  any  trouble ;  we  would 
give  you  your  dinner  if  we  could."  With  his  hand  on  my  shoulder 
we  walked  toward  the  carriage.  I  sat  down  inside,  the  two  officers 
with  me,  a  crowd  collected  about  the  window,  and  as  I  had  an  audi- 
ence, amongst  whom  might  be  some  one  to  send  the  story  to  Ireland, 
I  kept  inveighing  against  the  inhumanity  of  starving  me  in  prison, 
and  taking  me  from  Portland  to  London  without  giving  me  a  bit  to 
eat.  White  seemed  to  be  giving  way  and  said,  "  Well,  I  think  I 
mi^ht  venture  to  get  you  some  bread  and  meat ;"  but  as  he  laid  his 
hand  on  the  door  to  go  out  the  bell  rang  for  the  train  to  go  off.  Just 
then  a  little  girl  with  a  basket  on  her  arm,  who  was  amongst  the 
listeners,  cried  out,  "  Cakes,  cakes."  "Here,  here,"  said  White. 
He  put  his  hand  in  the  basket  and  took  out  two ;  put  the  other  hand 
in  his  pocket  and  took  out  a  penny.  He  gave  the  money  to  the 
little  girl  and  gave  me  the  cakes.  As  I  took  them  into  my  manacled 
hands,  whatever  blood  was  in  my  body  seemed  to  rush  into  my  face. 
I  felt  it ;  I  felt  the  thrill  through  my  whole  frame.  I  know  there 
was  some  impulse  toward  throwing  them  into  his  face,  or  throwing 
them  out  the  window,  but  another  impulse  counteracted  that,  in  the 
thought  that  the  man  was  acting  against  his  orders  ;  that  there  was 
some  kindness  in  the  act,  and  the  last  thing  I  could  do  would  be  to 
hurt  the  feelings  of  a  man  who  did  not  mean  to  hurt  mine.  I  sup- 
pose if  my  blood  was  ever  hot,  it  was  somewhat  cooled  down  at 
this  time,  I  ate  the  cakes,  and  never  spoke  a  word  till  I  reached 
London,  meditating  on  that  escape  of  mine. 

Various  were  the  thoughts  that  passed  through  my  mind,    and 
many  were  the  plans.     Assistance  should  be  had  somewhere,  and  I 
knew  it  would  come  if  I  could  get  a  chance  of  making  myself  known. 
There  is  no  railway  station  in  London  that  there  are  not  Irishmen 
about  it,  who  at  that  time  would  risk  their  own  liberty  to  obtain 
mine.     What  do  we  care  about  getting  others  into  difficulties  so  long 
as  we  can  manage  to  get  out  of  our  own.     We  men  are  terribly  our- 
selves first,  and  all  the  world  afterwards.      I  had  in  my  mind  that 
night,  that  as  soon  as  I   landed  on  the  platform  I  would  make  a 
"  bolt ;"  I  would  run  some  way  ;  the  best  way  would  be  along  the 
railway  track  if  I  could  get  on  to  it ;  for   there  I  would  be  most 
sure  of  meeting  with  the  most  hard-working  Irishmen,  the  poorest, 
the  truest,  and  those  who  had  least  to  lose.     I  thought  I  might  get 
some   one  to  recognize   my    character    by    crying    out   "  Cowihr, 
cowihr  /"     "  Ireland,"  "Rossa  ;"  one  or  either,  or  all  together ;  but  all 
these  thoughts  were  put  out  of  my  head  by  a  new  move  on  the  part 
of  my    keepers.        The  train  was  slackening    speed,    coming    into 
London;  White  said,    "There  is  the  prison,"  as  we  were   passing 
Millbank,  and  saying  so,  he  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  pulled 
out  a  pair  of  handcuffs.      As  they  shone  in  the  gaslight  I  read  in 
them  my  death  warrant,  and  as  White  tied  one  part  of  the  manacle 


O3 Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Lifi,  209 

on  my  wrist  above  the  other  iron  that  was  on  it,  and  tied  the  other 
part  of  it  on  one  of  Green's  wrists  my  spirits  fell  to  Zero. 

Here  was  I,  bound  to  one  of  my  jailers,  so  that  if  any  attempt 
was  made  at  a  rescue  two  of  us  should  be  taken  away,  or  the  hand 
of  one  of  us  should  be  torn  off,  if  the  irons  could  not  be  broken. 

The  train  stopped ;  we  came  out ;  went  into  a  carriage  ;  and  when 
we  came  out  again  I  found  myself  inside  the  walls  of  Millbank  prison, 
London.  It  was  after  eight  o'clock,  and  the  prisoners  were  in  bed. 
The  officers  had  retired,  but  a  few  were  in  special  waiting  for  me.  I 
was  given  up  to  the  man  who  had  charge  of  the  reception  ward,  and 
as  White  was  delivering  me  over,  he  said  to  my  new  guardian, 
"  Rossa  had  no  dinner,  and  if  you  have  any,  give  it  to  him."  Mill- 
bank  :  "  I  have  no  dinner;  the  only  thing  left  for  him  is  a  nine  ounce 
loaf  for  his  supper. 

White — "  You  may  have  something  extra,  for  he  had  nothing  to 
eat  all  day,  and  if  you  have,  give  it  to  him."  Millbank:  "I  have  no 
dinner  for  him.  Well,  I  will  try,  but  I  fear  there  is  nothing  left, 
unless  some  porridge  may  have  remained  in  some  of  the  tins." 
White  and  Green  bade  me  "  Good  night." 

Millbank  shut  me  up  in  my  cell,  which  contained  a  table  and 
stool,  and  six  or  seven  tin  cans.  By-and-by  the  door  was  opened, 
and  my  new  guardian  appeared  with  a  large  tin  can,  out  of  which 
the  porridge  was  measured  to  the  prisoners.  "  Here,"  said  he, 
"put  a  few  of  those  tins  on  the  table."  I  took  hold  of  the  whole 
six  or  seven,  and  he  cried  out,  "  Stop,  stop,  I  don't  think  there  is 
much  in  it."  He  filled  one  pint,  he  filled  two,  and  his  tin  kettle 
was  drained  before  he  had  the  third  full.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  take 
that,  and  you'll  be  a  long  time  here  before  you  get  so  much  again." 
I  ate  my  nine  ounces  of  bread  and  drank  my  three  pints  of  por- 
ridge, all  the  while  thinking  of  the  kind  Christian  government  that 
went  to  the  expense  of  telegraphing  from  Portland  to  Millbank  to 
give  me  nothing  but  bread  and  water  when  I  arrived,  in  order  to 
carry  out  the  day's  discipline  under  which  I  labored  when  I  left 
Portland.  I  got  my  bed  and  spread  it  out  on  the  flags.  I  asked  if 
I  could  not  have  a  board  to  put  between  the  stone  and  the  half-inch 
thick  mattress.  No  ;  that  was  a  reception  cell,  and  I  could  have  no 
other  accommodation.  The  old  song,  "  My  lodging  is  on  the  cold 
ground,"  came  into  my  head,  but  worse  than  that  was  to  come  after. 

I  did  not  close  my  eyes  that  night — well,  literally  I  did  close 
them  in  order  to  force  myself  into  a  sleep,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
The  chances  that  presented  itself  of  making  an  attempt  at  escape  at 
the  refreshment  station  would  not  leave  my  mind ;  it  was  one  of 
those  chances  that  never  return,  and  I  kept  upbraiding  myself  with 
folly  for  not  embracing  it.  Time  was  when  to  escape  from  the 
myrmidoms  of  the  land  was  held  unworthy  of  brave  men,  but  that 
was  before  the  myrmidons  laid  hands  on  you.  In  the  revolutionary 
school  in  Ireland  it  was  taught  by  the  principal  master  that  no 
man  should  run  away  before  he   was   caught,  for  in  a  crisis  there 


210  0*  Donovan  Rossats  Prison  Life. 

may  be  a  general  skedaddle  which  would  bring  on  general  de- 
moralization by  the  Government  circulating  that  such  and  such 
men  were  to  be  arrested.  These  tactics  were  adopted,  too,  by  the 
Government,  but,  to  the  credit  of  the  men,  most  of  them  stood 
their  ground.  I  believe  the  history  of  the  world  has  not  on  record 
a  country  for  size  and  population  that  produced  more  devoted  men 
than  Ireland  produced  for  the  last  dozen  years — men  ready  to  risk 
life  and  liberty  for  their  country's  freedom.  Nor  is  there  any  man 
in  history  that  I  have  read  of,  in  a  population  of  five  or  six  millions, 
who  had  so  many  men  as  Mr.  James  Stephens  had  ready  to  do  his 
bidding  in  the  cause  of  freedom — willing  to  venture  their  lives  in 
the  execution  of  any  project  he  deemed  necessary  for  the  independ- 
ence of  his  country.  How  all  these  men  are  scattered  !  How  all  the 
hopes  that  grew  with  the  labors  of  their  early  years  are  blighted,  it 
is  painful  to  see  this  fourth  day  of  December,  1873.  To  blame  this 
principal  master  I  have  referred  to,  I  will  not ;  one  thing  alone  will  I 
put  on  record  regarding  him,  and  it  is,  that  as  iae  representative  of 
Buch  men  as  I  speak  of,  I  would  like  he  had  shown  more  "  pluck ;"  I 
would  like  when  he  had  publicly  promised  to  be  in  Ireland  at  a  cer- 
tain time  to  fight — that  he  had  appeared  there,  albeit  a  man  did  not 
accompany  him,  and  even  though  it  cost  him  his  liberty  or  life.  It 
may  be  unreasonable  to  expect  this,  but  only  a  nobleman  in  mind 
will  see  that  something  like  it  was  due  to  the  characters  of  the  men 
who  were  committed  with  him  in  the  revolutionary  movement  in 
Ireland. 

The  morning  after  my  arrival  in  Millbank  I  was  put  through  the 
initiatory  process  of  prison  citizenship.  My  height,  weight,  and 
color  were  taken.  I  was  examined  by  the  doctor,  registered  on  the 
books,  and  orders  were  given  to  put  me  tailoring.  The  cell  I  was 
placed  in  was  a  particularly  gloomy  one  ;  it  was  situated  in  an  angle 
of  the  pentagon,  just  behind  the  chapel,  and  convenient  to  the  offi- 
cers' room,  within  the  ward.  When  I  occupied  it  I  looked  at  my 
furniture,  my  tin  pint  and  plate  came  up  for  inspection,  as  I  occa- 
sionally used  one  of  these  articles,  when  burnished  up,  for  a  looking 
glass.  On  the  bottom  of  the  pint  I  found  engraved  the  words, 
"  The  Artful  Dollier,"  and  my  heart  leaped  as  if  I  was  shaking 
hands  with  Denis  Dowling  Mulcahy  himself.  This  was  the  name 
we  called  him  in  Portland,  and  this  was  his  own  writing  also.  Then, 
this  was  the  cell  Denis  occupied  when  he  was  in  Millbank,  and  this 
was  the  pint  he  took  his  porridge  from.  Hadn't  I  company  ?  Yes, 
I  had — in  that  pint  that  recalled  the  memory  of  a  friend  whenever 
I  used  it. 

At  a  quarter  to  eight  o'clock  the  bell  ordered  us  to  make  down 
our  beds,  and  I  made  mine.  At  eight  a  warder  went  round  to  see 
if  every  prisoner  was  in  his  cell,  and  to  turn  off  the  gas.  He  passed 
mv  cell  without  putting  out  the  light,  and,  thinking  he  had  made  a 
mistake,  I  gave  a  halloo  alter  him.  He  came  back  with  his,  "What's 
the  matter  with  you  ?"     "  Don't  you  see,  governor,  you  havu't  put 


O' } Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  211 

out  the  gas."  "  Never  you  mind  that ;  that  gas  is  to  be  left  light- 
ing all  night,  and  make  no  more  noise."  The  burner  was  only  about 
two  feet  from  the  head  of  my  bed,  and,  as  the  light  was  glaring  on 
my  eyes,  I  could  not  sleep.  I  thought  I  would  devise  something 
to  shade  my  face.  I  had  a  water  bucket  in  my  cell,  which  had  to 
serve  the  treble  purpose  of  scrubbing  tub,  of  washing  basin,  and  of 
stool.  I  took  this  and  planted  it  by  the  head  of  my  bed.  I  then 
took  a  large  card,  about  three  feet  long,  by  two  feet  broad,  on 
which  were  printed  the  rules  and  regulations.  I  made  it  to  stand  on 
the  bucket,  against  the  wall,  between  the  burner  and  the  bed-head, 
so  as  to  screen  my  face  from  the  light.  By-and-bye,  the  night  watch 
looked  in,  and  roared  out,  "  What  have  you  done  there  ?"  "  Oh  ! 
governor,  I  could  not  sleep  with  that  gas-light  staring  me  in  the 
face,  and  I  put  the  card  up  as  a  screen."  "  Take  that  card  away  at 
once."  "  Oh  !  now,  governer,  what  harm  is  it  doing  ?"  "  I  cannot 
see  your  head;  take  it  down  at  once,  1  tell  you."  "If  I  took  it 
down  I  wouldn't  be  able  to  sleep  a  wink,  and  then  I  wouldn't  be 
able  to  work  to-morrow."  "  Take  down  that  card  instantly,  I  tell 
you."  "  I  will  not."  "  Then,  I'll  soon  let  you  see  that  you  will," 
and  I  heard  his  slippered  feet  falling  heavily  in  the  hall  as  he  moved 
away.  In  about  five  minutes  I  heard  the  tramp  of  several  men  ap- 
proaching ;  they  halted  opposite  my  cell,  and  big  Power,  the  head 
warder,  speaking  to  me  through  the  slit  in  the  wall,  ordered  me  to 
take  down  that  card.  "  Put  out  the  light,  and  I'll  take  it  away." 
"  That  cannot  be  done,  but  the  card  must  be  taken  down."  "  What 
harm  is  it  doing,  governor ?"  "That's  none  of  your  business* 
put  that  card  in  its  place  instantly,  I  tell  you."  "  Oh  !  for  good- 
ness sake,  give  me  some  rest,  and  let  me  go  to  sleep."  "Go  off  for 
the  keys."  Off  the  officer  went.  "  Here,  come  back  awhile,"  and 
back  he  came.  "  See,  Rossa,  the  keys  of  the  prison  are  given  up 
for  the  night,  and  if  you  don't  take  down  that  card  we  will  have  to 
open  the  door  and  take  it  away  from  you.  Once  the  keys  are  given 
over  for  the  night,  we  cannot  get  them  without  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  and  you  may  as  well  save  us  that,  for  we  must  take  away 
the  card,  if  you  don't."  "  Well,  anything  to  save  trouble,"  and, 
taking  away  the  card,  I  said,  "but  couldn't  you  lower  that  gas  a 
little?"  "  See,  turn  off  a  little  of  that  gas  ;  a  little  lower;  a  little 
higher ;  there,  there,  that  will  do,"  and  away  they  walked. 

As  I  was  doing  my  share  of  the  "orderly  "  work  next  mornino- 
I  noticed  hanging  on  the  wall  a  card,  on  which  was  my  name. 
Opposite  was  written:  "  This  prisoner  to  be  well  watched,  and  the 
gas  to  be  left  lighting  in  his  cell  all  night."  When  I  went  to  my 
cell  I  began  thinking,  and  thought  I  must  be  a  desperate  character. 
Friends  ask  me,  now  that  I  am  in  the  world,  "  Had  I  any  thought 
at  all  of  release  when  I  was  in  prison  ?"  It  is  said,  "  Hope  springs 
eternal  in  the  human  breast,"  but  the  springs  of  my  hope  were 
nearly  always  dried  up  by  continually  witnessing  these  sio-ns  of 
special  anxiety  regarding  me.     I  don't  know  what  my  masters  must 


212  (J  Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life, 

have  taken  me  for.  If  they  were  not  fond  of  me,  they  were  par- 
ticularly careful  of  me.  Hoping  anything  from  these  people,  and 
acting  so  as  not  to  have  that  hope  frustrated,  would  make  me  their 
slave — would  wear  me  off  my  feet.  No.  I  kept  myself  a  free  man 
in  prison ;  while  they  had  my  body  bound  in  chains,  I  felt  that  I 
owed  them  no  allegiance,  that  I  held  my  mind  unfettered — that  I 
was  not  their  slave. 

In  this  prison  of  Millbank  the  prisoners  have  to  do  the  sweep- 
ing and  cleaning  in  turn,  and  every  morning,  in  every  ward,  five  or 
six  are  taken  out  of  their  cells  for  an  hour  or  so  to  put  the  corridor 
in  order.  I  was  detailed  for  service  once,  but  this,  it  seems,  afforded 
me  too  much  liberty,  and  an  order  was  jessed  that  I  was  to  be 
passed  over  for  this  service  in  future. 

"I  was  to  be  treated  like  any  other  prisoner  " — that  was  the  stereo- 
typed phrase  towards  me  on  every  occasion  of  an  interview  with 
the  Director,  the  Governor,  the  Deputy-Governor,  and  with  every 
other  Governor  down  to  the  smallest  of  these  small  officials.  Yet 
they  managed  by  their  petty  acts  to  deprive  me  of  every  little 
privilege  that  the  convict  system  accords  to  its  children.  My  school 
hour  twice  a  week  was  confiscated  before  I  was  a  month  in  Millbank, 
and  every  other  privilege  that  they  could  confiscate.  They 
pressed  so  closely  on  me  this  time — they  screwed  me  down  so 
tightly  that  I  guessed  something  was  up.  I  told  them  they 
had  better  screw  me  into  a  little  needlecase  for  the  Governor  to 
carry  in  his  pocket.  Something  had  scared  them.  You  could  see 
alarm  in  the  countenance  of  every  man  in  authority.  I  write  now 
in  the  light  of  the  world,  and  I  see  that  on  the  7th  of  March,  1867, 
there  was  a  "  rising; "  in  Ireland.  England  did  not  know  where  it 
would  stop,  or  whether  it  would  confine  itself  to  Ireland  or  branch 
into  England.  She  was  terrified.  The  movement  was  a  secret  one, 
and  with  all  her  spies  she  knew  little  about  it.  If  she  could  grasp 
the  whole  of  it,  if  she  could  realize  its  extent,  if  it  was  a  large, 
grand,  and  powerful  constitutional  agitation,  she  could  take  "  con- 
stitutional "  means  to  meet  the  emergency ;  but  she  did  not  know 
when,  where,  or  how  she  was  to  be  struck,  and  hence  the  alarm.  A 
similar  terror  seized  the  English  Government  in  December  of  the 
same  year,  1867,  when  an  attempt  was  made  to  blow  up  Clerken- 
well  Prison  in  London.  Horse,  foot,  and  artillery  were  brought 
inside  the  prison  walls,  and  kept  there  day  and  night  for  months. 
Cannon  were  placed  on  the  prison  square,  and  every  preparation 
was  made  in  the  heart  of  London  to  meet  an  attack  from  those 
Irish  revolutionists. 

I  did  not  escape  scot  free,  for  shading  my  face  from  the  light 
with  the  "rules  and  regulations."  Next  day  I  was  charged  with 
the  offence  in  presence  of  the  Governor.  This  man's  name  was 
Morish,  a  big,  stand-off,  important  kind  of  person,  with  the  air  of  a 
disciplinarian.  He  read  me  a  lecture,  and,  when  he  came  to  speak 
of  my  coming  to  his  prison  with  such  an  exceedingly  bad  character, 


0  ^  Donovan  Rosso) s  Prison  Life.  213 

I  gave  a  kind  of  smile  that  made  him  pause,  and  pronounce  a  sen- 
tence of  "  42  marks."  I  had  added  a  year  and  a  half  in  Portland  to 
my  sentence  of  life,  by  the  forfeiture  of  marks,  and  here  was  another 
week  put  on  me.  If  things  go  on  in  this  way,  thought  I,  there  is 
poor  chance  of  getting  out  of  prison,  either  in  this  world  or  the 
next. 

Shortly  after  this  first  interview  of  mine  with  the  Governor,  two 
officers  came  into  my  cell  and  ordered  me  to  strip.  I  was  stripped 
the  day  before,  which  I  took,  as  a  matter  of  course,  as  part  of  my 
initiation  into  the  secret  masonry  of  Millbank ;  but,  coming  the  day 
after  to  make  me  repeat  the  humiliation,  was  quite  out  of  order,  and 
I  asked,  "  What's  up  now  ?"  "  No  matter  what's  up,  but  obey 
orders — strip."  I  took  off  my  jacket  and  trousers,  and  shoes  and 
stockings,  and  shirt  and  wrapper,  every  one  of  which  they  examined 
and  felt  inch  by  inch.  I  stood  before  them  with  the  flannel  drawers 
still  on  me.  "  Strip  off  that  drawers."  "  Will  you  please  allow  me 
to  put  on  the  shirt  before  I  take  off  the  drawers  ?"  "  No,  take  off 
that  drawers ;  we  will  have  to  see  you  stripped  naked."  I  obeyed 
orders  again.  I  turned  round ;  I  opened  my  mouth ;  I  extended 
my  arms  and  legs.  They  discharged  their  duty  to  the  letter  of  the 
law,  threw  me  back  my  clothes,  and  locked  the  door. 

For  three  months,  day  after  day,  two  of  these  officers  came  and 
put  me  through  the  same  process.  I  felt  it  more  than  anything 
connected  with  my  prison  life  ;  and  when  the  supervision  came  so 
close  upon  me,  that,  when  taking  a  bath,  a  jailor  had  to  stand  over 
me,  I  have  no  words  to  describe  my  feelings  of  shame.  I  am  not 
very  sensitive,  nor  very  thin-skinned,  nor  very  refinedly  fashioned, 
but  I  owe  to  some  early  association  the  possession  of  some  very 
strong  prejudices  against  my  fellow-man  looking  at  me  in  a  state 
of  nature.  When  I  was  at  school,  and  heard  the  boys  telling  sto- 
ries of  how  men  were  stripped  naked  when  they  enlisted  for  sol- 
diers, I  imagined  it  the  most  awful  thing  that  could  be  done  and 
there  was  little  fear  of  my  ever  becoming  a  soldier.  I  once  and 
again  reminded  some  of  the  authorities  that  this  daily  stripping  of 
me  conflicted  a  little  with  the  prison  rule,  which  says,  "  The  Gov- 
ernor and  officers  must  be  at  all  times  disposed  to  cultivate  senti- 
ments of  morality  and  propriety  of  behavior  in  the  prisoners ;"  but 
the  demands  of  "  discipline,"  or  the  Government  demands  regarding 
m^,  required  that  all  rules  and  regulations  be  set  aside,  in  order  to 
reduce  me  to  some  required  standard. 

After  three  months  or  four,  a  crisis  came,  in  which  I  refused  to 
submit  to  the  daily  stripping.  The  clothes  were  then  torn  off  me 
by  five  or  six  officers ;  but  I  will  postpone  telling  the  particulars  of 
the  adventure,  until  I  come  to  it  in  the  due  course  of  my  narrative. 
I  believe  I  broke  off  when  I  was  saying  something  about  my  school- 
ing. I  was  always  fond  of  wandering  from  that,  but  now  I'll  return 
to  it. 

When  I  was  in  Millbank  a  few  days,  one  morning  the  door  of 


214:  0,Do?wvan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

my  cell  was  thrown  open,  and  an  old  man  walked  in,  handed  me  a 
leaf  of  ruled  paper  and  a  writing  pen,  and  walked  out  again.  Then 
a  prisoner  who  was  out  as  acting  orderly  came  to  the  door  with 
about  twenty  little  brown  stone  ink-bottles  on  a  board.  "  Here, 
here,  hurry  on,  take  one."  "  What  is  it  for?"  asked  I.  "  School, 
school,  school ;  you're  at  school  now,"  and  after  taking  my  ink-bottle 
he  hurried  on  to  the  scholar  next  door. 

I  don't  know  is  it  that  evil  associations  corrupt  men,  or  is  it  that 
every  man  has  something  of  the  thief  in  him,  and  only  requires  to  be 
placed  in  certain  straitened  circumstances  to  have  the  faculty  de- 
veloped ? — but  true  as  I  write,  the  first  thought  that  came  into  my 
head  was  to  steal  one  of  those  little  brown  stone  bottles,  ink,  and 
cork,  and  all,  and  pen,  to  boot.  I  had  a  kind  of  foreboding  that  my 
gnardians  would  not  leave  me  long  at  school,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  not  to  leave  another  opportunity  pass  without  making  an 
attempt  to  avail  myself  of  writing  material  to  help  me  to  educate 
myself.  "  Self-help  "  was  one  of  the  books  the  prison  library  circu- 
lated, and  I  determined  to  profit  by  its  teachings,  even  though 
learning,  treated  as  I  was,  might  be  termed  "  The  pursuit  of  know- 
ledge under  difficulties." 

The  first  day  of  my  schooling,  rather  the  first  hour,  for  it  was 
one  hour  in  each  of  two  days  of  the  week,  was  occupied  in  writing 
my  "  Jillen  Andy  "  verses  on  the  leaf  of  paper  I  got.  The  school- 
master came  in  a  second  time  and  told  me  I  could  write  whatever  I 
liked  on  the  paper,  and  he  would  return  to  take  it  from  me  when  the 
hour  was  up,  but  he  told  me  afterwards  that  I  should  not  write 
verses  on  my  paper ;  I  should  write  like  other  prisoners,  copy  lines 
or  passages  from  my  school  books  or  Bible. 

Chance  gave  me  a  second  day  at  school,  and  also  gave  me  an 
opportunity  of  retaining  my  ink  bottle  when  the  school  was  breaking 
up.  I  also  became  possessed  of  a  steel  pen  by  such  a  ruse  as  this. 
I  noticed  that  when  the  schoolmaster  came  round  to  give  me  a  pen 
he  had  a  number  of  them  in  his  hand,  some  of  which  were  without 
nibs.  When  he  left  my  cell  I  drew  out  the  nib  and  put  it  on  the 
floor,  where  the  shadow  from  the  leg  of  the  table  hid  it.  When  he 
came  round  by-and-by  he  saw  me  idle,  and  asked  "  why  I  was  not 
writing  ? "  I  took  up  the  pen  handle  that  lay  on  the  table,  and 
holding  it  towards  him  remarked  quite  innocently  that  it  was  not 
easy  to  write  with  that.  Had  he  made  any  fuss  about  giving  me 
one  with  a  nib  in  it,  I  could  have  made  a  little  fuss,  too,  in  looking 
for  it  and  found  it  on  the  floor.  But  he  said  nothing,  only  "  thought 
he  gave  me  a  good  pen,"  and  handed  me  another. 

Being  tailoring  this  time,  I  had  some  black  thread,  which  I  tied 
to  the  neck  of  the  bottle,  and  the  other  end  to  one  of  the  bars  of  my 
window.  The  roofing  of  the  chapel  rose  to  within  about  a  foot  of 
the  window,  and  a  gutter  ran  along  it  to  carry  off  the  rain.  In  the 
gutter  the  bottle  lay  hid  for  about  three  months  before  it  was  dis- 
covered.    Whenever  I  wanted  to  use  it  I  hauled  in  my  line,  and  hav- 


0^  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  215 

ing  used  it,  put  it  back  to  the  resting  place.  I  found  a  bit  of  a  hip- 
pen,  and  fashioned  it  into  a  pen-handle,  tying  my  nib  to  it  with  my 
black  thread,  and  this  I  kept  concealed  between  the  gas-pipe  and 

the  wall. 

I  applied  for  permssion  to  write  my  reception  letter,  but  the  gov- 
ernor would  not  grant  it.  I  reminded  him  of  the  rule  that  said, 
that  every  person  on  being  received  into  the  prison,  could  write  a 
letter,  and  he  reminded  me  that  that  applied  only  to  men  of  good 
character — not  to  men  who  had  been  sent  back  from  public  work 
for  bad  character.  He  said  I  could  repeat  the  application  to  the 
Director  if  I  wished,  and  doing  so,  he  allowed  me  to  write  the  let- 
ter, but  hoped  t  would  confine  myself  to  legitimate  matter.  The 
time  for  writing  was  during  the  school  hour,  and  I  had  not  my  let- 
ter finished  the  first  day.  I  knew  well  that  it  would  never  pass  the 
consorship,  as  I  was  telling  all  about  the  treatment  I  received,  and  I 
managed  to  write  two  copies  on  my  waste  paper  before  I  gave  ic  out 
of  my  hands  the  second  school  day.  I  intended  sending  these  copies 
surreptitiously  if  an  opportunity  offered.  The  next  day  the  Director 
came  he  sent  for  me  and  told  me  he  could  not  let  that  letter  pass, 
but  he  would  give  me  a  chance  to  write  another.  I  thanked  him 
and  wrote  just  the  same  as  I  had  written  before.  Again  he  sent  for 
me  and  remonstrated  with  me  for  repeating  my  offence,  ending, 
however,  with  the  offer  of  another  chance,  which  I  accepted.  I  was 
by  this  time  wide  awake  to  some  of  their  trickery.  If  I  refused  to 
write  they  would  put  my  refusal  on  record,  and  thus  gain  a  strong 
point  against  me  in  that  battle  with  public  opinion  to  which  I  was 
determined  to  bring  them,  if  at  all  possible.  If  I  wrote  out  a  letter, 
stating  nothing  of  my  treatment,  while  they  were  treating  me  in  a 
manner  calculated  to  bring  me  to  an  early  grave,  they,  in  case  I 
died,  and  that  any  question  was  raised  about  my  ill-treatment, 
would  cry  out,  "  It  is  all  false.  Look  at  his  last  letter  to  his  wife ; 
see  if  there  is  a  word  in  it  about  ill-treatment "  Acting,  with  the 
doom  of  death  starting  me  in  the  face,  I,  every  time  I  was  allowed 
to  write  a  letter  to  my  wife,  wrote  of  my  prison  life.  For  three 
years  they  kept  suppressing  these  letters,  during  which  time  she 
never  heard  from  me.  The  reflection  that  she  might  imagine  I  did 
not  care  about  writing  to  her  was  painful  enough  to  me,  but  I  had 
put  everything  into  the  fight,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  sacrifice 
everything  before  I  would  play  into  the  hands  of  such  a  hypocriti- 
cal, heartless,  merciless  enemy  as  I  had  to  deal  with.  I  tied  up  the 
two  copies  of  my  letter,  each  separately,  in  as  small  parcels  as  I 
could.  One  of  them  I  had  in  my  straw  mattress,  and  the  other  in  a 
hole  I  scooped  out  in  a  corner  of  the  cell.  This  I  filled  up  again 
so  as  that  it  would  never  be  noticed  unless  a  person  went  looking 
for  unnoticeable  holes. 

The  time  came  when  I  was  to  lose  my  schooling,  and  I  lost  it  in 
this  manner.  An  English  convict,  born  in  Kilkenny,  occupied  a  cell 
next  to  mine.     He  was  then  there  under  the  name  of  Scott,  but  he 


216  O' }  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life, 

told  me  that  was  not  his  right  name.  This  he  wished  to  be  *ept  a 
secret,  as  he  did  not  want  Kilkenny  folks  to  know  anything  aoout 
him  or  his  whereabouts.  He  was  only  lately  convicted,  and  as  we 
stood  inside  our  open  doors  in  the  morning,  waiting  to  have  our 
numbers  called  to  take  our  buckets  of  fresh  water,  he  whispered  me 
many  stories  of  the  war  in  Ireland,  all  of  which  I  greedily  swallowed. 
Not  being  able  to  use  his  food  at  first,  nearly  every  morning  he'd 
manage  to  throw  a  piece  of  bread  into  my  cell  as  he  passed  by  it. 
When  I  learned  that  he  could  tell  me  everything  about  Ireland  and 
the  "  boys  "  there,  I  neglected  my  schooling,  to  stand  near  my  door 
and  have  a  whisper  with  him. 

Brown,  the  officer,  used  to  be  up  in  the  centre  of  the  ward  occa- 
sionally, where  he  had  a  view  of  two  corridors,  but  he  put  on  slip- 
pers one  day,  and  creeping  softly  down,  stole  a  march  on  Scott  and 
me  as  we  were  whispering  to  each  other  from  inside  our  doors.  We 
were  startled  from  our  tete-a-tete  by  his  roaring  out,  "  Put  out  your 
brooms  and  shut  those  doors,"  and  having  taken  away  my  writing 
material,  I  shut  my  door.  He  opened  it  again  and  asked,  "  Why 
haven't  you  put  your  broom  out  ?  "  "  Where  am  I  to  put  it  ?  " 
"  Put  it  outside  your  door,"  and  putting  it  out  he  locked  me  in. 
The  putting  out  of  your  broom  or  sweeping-brush  was  to  signify  to 
all  persons  passing  by  that  you  were  under  report  and  awaiting 
sentence,  and  many  a  time  my  broom  was  out.  When  the  Gov- 
ernor sat  to  pass  judgment,  1  was  taken  to  the  corridor,  where 
the  offenders  are  drawn  up  in  line,  four  paces  apart,  with  their 
faces  turned  to  the  wall.  My  turn  came.  I  was  conducted  into  the 
court  and  charged  with  talking  to  Scott  during  school  hour.  Asked 
what  I  had  to  say,  I  said  I'd  give  my  reply  in  writing,  and  as  1 
wouldn't  get  paper,  I'd  say  nothing.  The  sentence  passed  on  me 
was,  that  I  get  no  more  schooling  while  in  prison  ;  but  Scott  was 
not  deprived  of  his  schooling,  though  it  was  he  did  all  the  talking. 
His  sentence  was  a  fine  of  42  marks  and  a  reprimand.  Didn't  1 
feel  lonesome  every  day  afterwards  when  I  heard  the  school  bell  ring, 
and  the  doors  opening,  and  my  door  kept  locked  !  Yes,  I  did,  and 
concluded  that  my  schooling  was  forfeited,  not  so  much  for  punish- 
ment, but  as  a  precaution  against  my  getting  writing  materials  into 
my  hands.  When  the  school  bell  rang,  I  put  away  my  work  and 
took  my  slate  and  pencil  to  figure  away  the  hour  in  solitary  con- 
finement. I  was  one  day  so  occupied,  when  I  heard  some  one  at 
my  door  asking,  "  Why  is  this  man  idle  ?  "  The  wrarder  opened 
the  door,  and  Captain  Wallack,  the  Deputy-Governor,  asked,  "  Why 
aren't  you  at  work  ?  "  "  Oh,  Governor,  this  is  school  hour."  "  You 
have  been  deprived  of  school,  and  you  must  keep  to  work."  "Well, 
I  don't  know,  I  have  been  often  told  I  am  to  be  treated  like  any 
other  prisoner  ;  the  other  man,  who  was  reported  with  me,  has  not 
been  deprived  of  his  schooling.  I  think  I  may  fairly  be  allowed 
such  privilege  as  you  allow  your  thieves  and  pickpockets,  and  I 
think  it  quite  illegal  to  deprive  me  of  what  the  law  says  every  pris 


0*  Donovan  "Bosses.  Prison  Life.  217 

oner  must  have."  "  You  must  not  be  impertinent  here."  "  The 
prison  rules  do  not  allow  me  to  be  impertinent  to  any  one,  nor  do 
they  allow  any  one  to  be  impertinent  to  me."  "Put  out  your 
broom,"  and  out  the  broom  went  for  another  report.  This  Captain 
Wallack  was  very  civil  to  me  from  that  out ;  he  acted  quite  gentle- 
manly, and  I  treated  him  quite  respectfully.  It  came  within  the 
sphere  of  his  duty  to  pass  sentence  of  bread  and  water  on  me  a  few 
times,  while  the  Governor  was  absent,  but  he  did  it  without  any 
extra  judicial  observations.  It  was  illegal  to  deprive  me  of  school- 
ing, but  what  did  they  do  to  correct  this  illegality,  do  you  think  ? 
The  Board  of  Prison  Directors  held  a  meeting,  and  decided  that  su- 
periorly educated  prisoners — those  who  were  in  the  fourth  class — 
should  get  no  more  schooling,  and  I  was  immediately  put  down  as 
a  fourth  class  man ;  rather,  I  should  say,  I  was  promoted  to  it  to 
finish  my  education,  for  when  I  was  admitted  to  Pentonville,  some 
fifteen  months  before,  I  could  graduate  no  higher  than  second  class. 
If  this  does  not  prove  that  I  took  care  of  my  schooling,  it  shows 
that  I  had  some  interest  to  shove  me  on. 

Our  cells  had  to  be  scrubbed  twice  a  week.  You  had  to  go  on 
your  knees,  but  you  had  strong  leather  knee-caps  to  protect  your 
trousers  from  the  flags.  Part  of  the  process  of  scrubbing  was  to 
give  the  cell  a  finishing  touch  by  rubbing  the  flags  with  a  kind  of 
soft,  white  stone,  so  that  when  the  cell  dried  it  had  a  nice  chalky 
appearance.  This,  to  my  mind,  was  dirtying  the  cell  instead  of 
cleaning  it,  for  the  air  was  always  impregnated  with  the  dust  aris- 
ing from  the  floor.  As  I  had  no  instructions  at  first,  I  used  the 
stone  as  a  kind  of  soap,  and  I  gave  my  finishing  stroke  by  washing 
it  all  off.  The  Deputy  Governor,  passing  by  one  day,  said  my  cell 
was  very  dirty,  and  I  was  ordered  to  scrub  it  again.  I  got  my 
bucket  of  water,  my  scrubbing-brush,  and  my  soap-stone,  and  went 
to  work,  though  I  had  scrubbed  it  that  morning  before.  By-and- 
by,  Brown,  the  ward  officer,  came  in,  and  said  it  was  dirty  still,  and 
asked  me  to  go  over  it  again,  and  at  it  I  went.  In  another  hour's 
time  he  came  in,  said  it  was  not  white  enough  yet,  and  told  me  to 
give  it  the  finishing  touch  with  the  stone,  and  not  to  wash  off  the 
powder,  so  a  third  time  I  tied  on  my  knee-caps  and  went  to  work. 
Just  as  I  had  finished  the  bell  rang  for  exercise,  and  I  got  my  hour 
in  the  open  air.  Then  the  dinner  bell  rang,  and  I  had  my  hour  for 
dinner.  After  that  the  master  tailor  came  in,  and  asked  me  to  show 
him  the  work  I  had  done  all  day.  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  I  have  been 
hard  at  work,  but  I  have  not  done  much  tailoring."  Early  in  the 
morning  he  gave  me  some  canvas  bags  to  make,  and  I  had  only 
about  a  foot  of  stitching  done  when  I  was  ordered  to  re-scrub  the 
cell.  Having  gone  over  the  work  three  times,  with  the  exercise 
hour  and  dinner  hour  coming  after,  I  had  no  time  to  do  the  tailor's 
work.  He  laid  hold  of  the  bag  I  had  been  sewing,  took  out  his  tape 
line  and  measured  my  stitching.  It  was  only  fourteen  inches. 
"  And  this  is  all  the  work  vou  have  done  since  morning,  fourteen 
inches  of  stiehing?" 


218  (? Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

"  I  have  done  other  work,  for  Mr.  Brown  made  me  scrub  the 
cell  three  times,  and  then  the  exercise  hour  came  and  then  the  din- 
ner hour,  so  that  I  had  no  time  to  do  any  of  the  work  you  gave 
me." 

"You  should  have  scrubbed  your  cell  like  other  prisoners,  in  the 
morning  before  breakfast,  and  you  must  get  on  like  other  prisoners. 
I  must  have  my  work  done,  and  I  tell  you,  you'll  soon  find  yourself 
on  bread  and  water  if  you  don't  conduct  yourself  properly  here." 

"  I  am  conducting  myself  properly ;  if  you  think  I  am  not,  you 
can  report  me.     I  prefer  it  to  your  abuse." 

"  Put  out  your  broom,"  and  out  rny  broom  went  again,  to  show 
I  was  under  report  and  awaiting  punishment. 

I  was  taken  before  the  Governor.  The  tailor  was  present  to 
charge  me  with  idleness  ;  he  had  the  canvas  bag  with  him  to  show 
that  I  had  done  only  fourteen  inches  of  stitching  from  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning  till  half-past  one  in  the  evening.  I  was  asked  what 
I  had  to  say  in  reply,  and  I  said  nothing,  as  I  would  not  get  pen 
and  ink  and  paper  to  put  my  words  on  record. 

I  forget  now  whether  the  sentence  was  marks  or  bread  and  water, 
but  there  was  an  addition  made  to  it  that  the  tailoring  work  be 
taken  from  me  and  that  I  be  put  at  the  punishment  work  of  the 
prison,  which  was  picking  coir,  and  every  day  that  I  did  not  do 
the  task-work  of  twenty  ounces,  I  got  twenty-four  or  twice  twenty- 
four  hours'  bread  and  water. 

At  this  time  all  my  fingers  were  bandaged  by  the  doctor.  I 
had  been  so  reduced  from  hunger  and  cold  in  Portland  that  I  came 
to  Millbank  with  the  flesh  rotting  off  my  hands.  I  could  use  the 
needle  pretty  well,  for  it  did  not  require  much  bending  of  the 
fingers;  but  when  I  came  to  pick  the  coir  I  found  it  required 
the  exercise  of  all  my  fingers,  and,  failing  to  do  my  task-work,  at 
first,  I  succeeded  in  getting  bread  and  water  and  no  bed  at  night. 

If  ever  man  felt  cold,  I  felt  it  one  of  these  nights.  It  was  about 
the  27th  of  March,  1867,  and  I  had  no  bed  or  bed-clothes  but  a 
light  rug.  I  would  not  be  allowed  to  walk  about  the  cell ;  I  had 
to  remain  stretched  with  this  rug  around  me.  It  was  a  shivering 
and  chattering  of  teeth  all  night  through.  "When  I  looked  out 
through  the  hole  in  the  wall  in  the  morning,  the  house-tops  were 
covered  with  snow.  During  the  winter  season — that  is,  between 
the  29th  of  September  and  the  25th  of  March — the  prisoner  under 
punishment  gets  a  rug  and  a  blanket,  but  from  the  25th  of  March 
to  the  29th  of  September  he  gets  a  rug  only.  The  cell  has  no  win- 
dow, but  there  is  a  hole  about  two  feet  long  and  three  inches  wide 
to  admit  a  little  light,  and  as  my  bed-board  was  under  the  hole,  I 
found  the  snow  had  been  drifting  in  on  me  all  night. 

I  heard  the  prison  clock  strike  two.  To  sleep  was  impossible, 
and  I  got  up  to  walk  about  the  cell.  1  wore  my  punishment 
slippers,  and  in  a  minute  I  heard  a  voice  at  the  door — "  Stop  that 
walking,  and  go  to  bed."     "  I  have  no  bed."     "  Well,  He  down, 


(? Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  219 

and  don't  be  making  noise."  I  sat  on  the  board,  and  communed 
with  myself  how  to  kill  time.  I  took  off  my  slippers,  and  com- 
menced walking  as  lightly  as  I  could  in  my  stocking  vamps.  The 
watch  heard  my  footfalls,  and  tapped  at  the  door  again,  with  his, 
"  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  stop  that  walking  ?  If  you  don't  go  to  bed, 
I'll  report  you  in  the  morning " — and  rather  than  be  reported,  I 
went  "  to  bed,"  and  shivered  away  the  hours  until  daybreak. 

The  "rising"  in  Ireland  was  on  the  7th  of  March,  1867,  and 
immediately  after,  there  was  such  a  hubbub  about  me  that  I  guessed 
there  must  be  something  up  in  the  outer  world.  I  was  in  Millbank 
a  fortnight,  and  night  and  day  I,  the  same  as  every  other  prisoner, 
occupied  the  same  cell.  But  now  it  was  different.  When  the  hour 
came  for  going  to  bed  I  was  taken  out  of  my  cell,  led  through  a 
corridor,  then  through  a  few  corridors  more,  and  into  a  cell  where 
I  slept  all  night,  with  the  gas  lighting.  In  the  morning  I  was  con- 
ducted back  to  my  working  cell,  and  this  continued  night  and  day 
for  months  till  the  scare  wore  away,  when  they  had  crushed  the 
rebellion  in  Ireland.  They  were  not  sure  that  they  were  not  to 
have  a  rising  in  London,  and  they  took  these  precautions  regarding 
me,  lest  I  should  be  taken  away  by  force.  If  I  was  left  during 
night  in  the  cell  which  I  occupied  all  day,  some  officer  might  tell 
the  boys  outside  the  particular  cell  I  slept  in,  on  the  ground  floor, 
or  it  was  more  secure  to  have  me  in  the  top  of  the  prison,  with  as 
many  gates,  and  bars,  and  bolts  as  possible  between  me  and  my 
sympathizers  outside.  They  must  have  been  awfully  scared  that 
time,  and  they  must  have  considered  me  an  awfully  important 
personage. 

What  I  regretted  much  in  this  change  was,  that  I  lost  my  bed 
in  which  was  concealed  one  of  my  letters.  The  mattress  and  bed- 
clothes were  taken  out  of  my  day  cell,  and  I  never  saw  them  more. 
This  having  happened,  I  said  it  was  better  to  make  an  attempt  to 
send  out  the  other,  which  was  hid  in  the  hole,  than  to  be  waiting 
for  a  better  opportunity,  which  may  never  come.  I  did  not  know 
but  I  might  be  changed  altogether  from  that  cell,  and  thus  loose 
both  my  letters.  The  next  day  that  I  was  scrubbing  my  cell  I 
broke  my  scrubbing  stone  and  ground  down  a  piece  of  it  to  about 
an  inch  square.  1  took  out  my  letter  and  enclosed  the  stone  in  it 
to  make  it  heavy,  so  that  I  could  throw  it  over  the  prison  from  the 
exercise  yard.  I  knew  there  was  a  road  running  outside,  but  I  had 
not  much  hope  of  succeeding  in  getting  it  out  there.  There  was  a 
garden  between  the  prison  and  the  road,  and  I  calculated  if  it  fell 
there,  some  prison  officer  or  prisoner  may  find  it,  who,  for  the  con- 
sideration that  I  had  stated  on  the  envelope,  would  send  it  to  its 
destination.  I  then  had  recourse  to  my  ink-bottle  that  was  hanging 
from  the  window,  and  I  addressed  a  note  to  the  finder,  telling  him 
to  send  this  to  a  certain  place,  and  he  would  get  a  certain  sum  of 
money.  I  folded  it  up  tidily,  hid  it  away  on  my  person,  and  went 
out  to  exercise  when  the  bell  rang.     This  exercise  consists  in  walk- 


220  CP  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

ing  around  the  yard  for  a  half  hour,  and  in  working  at  the  pump 
for  another  half  hour. 

While  I  was  walking  about  with  the  party,  the  principal  officer 
opened  the  door,  and  called  me,  saying,  "  I  want  to  search  you ; 
open  your  jacket  and  waistcoat."      I  did  so.     "  What   is   this  ?" 
"That's  one  of  the  six  bags  I  got  to  make."     "And  why  did  you 
bring  it  out  of  your  cell  ?"     "  I  felt  cold,  and  I  put  it  around  my 
waist  to  keep  me  warm."     "Take  it  off  instantly."     I  took  it  off; 
he  took  it  in,  and   I  was  allowed  to  continue  my  exercise.     I  had 
my  letter  in  my  pocket  all  the  time,  and,  for  a  wonder,  he  did  not 
put  his  hand  in  it.     I  knew  there  was  not  much  time  to  spare,  if  I 
wanted  to  try  my  luck  in  throwing  it  over  the  prison,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  try  it  immediately.     Brown,  the  officer,  generally 
stood  at  the  gate  leading  into  the  pumping  yard,  and,  as  the  prison- 
ers walk  around  the  shed  that  covers  it,  the  pump  comes  between 
the  officer  and  every  prisoner,  while  the  latter  is  going  a  distance  of 
two  or  three  paces.     At  this  spot  I  made  up  my  mind  to  fling  away 
my  parcel.     Getting  it  ready  in  my  hand,  I,  when  I  came  to  the 
place,  threw  it  with  all  my  might.     High  into  the  air  I  saw  it  go, 
but  my  eyes  did  not  follow  it,  for  the  officer's  eyes  were  immedi- 
ately on  me  ;  but  in  a  second  or  two  I  heard  the  noise  of  something 
falling  on  the  roof.     I  turned  my  eyes  upwards,  and  saw  my  letter 
fall  back  into  the  yard.     The  prisoner  behind  me  gave  a  groan,  and 
the  one  before  me  gave  a  curse.     The  wonder  is  that  the  keeper  did 
not  hear  the  noise  or  notice  anything  wrong.     The  letter  fell  into  a 
corner  where  cinders  were  kept.    I  saw  it  as  I  passed  by.    The  snow 
was  on  the  ground,  and  there  was  my  treasure  on  the  top  of  it.     I 
should  get  out  of  the  ranks  to  take  it,  and  this  looked  impossible  to 
do  without  the  officer  seeing  me.     The  order  came  to  have  us  go 
into  our  cells.     I  had  only  one  turn  more  around  the  yard.     Was  I 
to  leave  my  treasure  there  and  go  in  ?     No  ;  I  would  take  it.     The 
officer  would,  of  course,  see  me,  and  make  a  run  for  me,  but  I  would 
have  it  thrown  over  the  house  before  he  could  catch  me  ;  and,  as  I 
was  passing  the  spot,  I  stepped  aside  and  took  up  the  letter.     Step- 
ping into  the  ranks  again,  I  looked  to  see  if  Brown  was  after  me, 
but  he  didn't  see  the  move  at  all,  and,  as  soon  as  I  entered  my  cell, 
I  placed  my  treasure  in  its  hiding  place.     Immediately  after,  I  was 
ordered  to  put  out  my  broom,  and,  when  the  judge  sat,  I  was  ordered 
twenty-four  hours  on  bread  and  water,  for  destroying  the  property 
of  the  prison  and  converting  it  to  improper  use.     The  destruction 
consisted  in  my  having  put  a  few  stitches  in  the  bag,  to  keep  it  tight 
around  my  waist. 

The  next  day  that  I  went  to  exercise  I  succeeded  in  throwing  my 
letter  over  the  building  without  being  noticed.  The  prisoner  behind 
me  observed,  "  It  can't  have  gone  beyond  the  garden ;  they'll  find  it 
and  play  the  devil  with  you."  But  it  seems  it  was  never  found,  for 
I  never  heard  anything  of  it  from  that  day  to  this. 


(P  Donovan  J2ossa?s  Prison  Life.  221 

I  did  not  forget  their  punishing  me  for  not  doing  the  tailoring, 
and  scrubbing  the  floor  at  the  same  time,  and  I  asked  the  Governor 
to  put  down  my  name  to  see  the  Director  when  next  he  would  visit. 
He  came  the  following  Thursday,  and  I  was  brought  into  his  pres- 
ence. His  name  was  Captain  Gambier,  and  I  became  very  familiar 
with  him  afterwards.  That  is,  I  often  came  before  him  in  his  judi- 
cial capacity,  and  he  would  speak  to  me  so  sweetly  that  I  began  to 
look  upon  him  as  a  father.  But  all  his  fatherly  attentions  were  be- 
stowed upon  me  in  the  way  or  corrections.  While  pronouncing 
sentences  on  me  that  he  knew  should  bring  me  on  my  knees — while 
he  would  be  writing  "  bread  and  water,"  he  would  be  saying,  "  God 
knows  I  pity  you.  I  am  sorry  for  you."  "  Four  months'  solitary 
confinement  on  punishment  diet,  and  the  first  twelve  days  on  bread 
and  water;  that  will  do,  take  him  off."  He  had  a  glass  eye,  and  this 
used  to  look  at  me  as  if  it  was  shedding  tears  in  sympathy  with  his 
pitying  words,  while  the  other  gloated  with  satisfaction  that  he  had 
me  in  his  toils,  and  that  it  wTas  only  a  matter  of  time,  in  the  working 
of  his  machinery,  to  make  me  anything  he  desired.  It  would  not 
do  to  break  a  man  down,  or  break  him  up  suddenly.  It  should  be 
done  on  English  humanitarian  or  disciplinarian  principles — "  done 
so  slowly  that  none  could  call  it  murder." 

I  never  could  give  this  Captain  Gambier  an  ill  word,  for  the  reason 
that  he  always  spoke  civilly  to  me.  He'd  polish  up  the  ugliest  dose 
he  could  give  with  his  crocodile  w<  <rds,  and  I  believe  that  I  vexed 
him  as  much  as  any  prisoner  he  ever  met,  for  I  never  lost  my  temper 
with  him,  and  I  always  caught  him  quietly  wherever  I  found  him 
tripping. 

A  week  or  so  after  the  tailor's  complaint  against  me  I  went 
before  him  and  represented  that  one  officer  set  me  to  work  in  the 
morning — that  another  officer  came  and  put  me  at  other  work, 
and  that  the  first  man  came  and  reported  me  for  not  doing  his 
business  while  I  was  attending  to  the  second  man's  orders.  I 
told  him  the  whole  story  as  printed  in  the  preceding  pages,  and 
asked  him  to  send  for  the  officers.  The  Governor,  who  was  pre- 
sent, said  he  at  the  time  asked  me  what  I  had  to  say,  and  I 
said  nothing.  "Do  you  hear  that?"  said  Gambier.  "I  do," 
said  I.  u  And  why  didn't  you  make  known  to  the  Governor 
what  you  make  known  to  me  now  ?"  "  The  Governor  had  his 
officers  to  make  the  truth  known  to  him.  You  know  that  the 
word  of  a  prisoner  cannot  be  taken  against  the  word  of  a  warder. 
Rice,  the  tailor,  reported  me  for  idleness.  Brown,  my  warder, 
knew  I  was  doing  other  work,  I  was  not  idle,  and  that  I  was 
reported  for  idleness.  It  struck  me  that  there  was  some  State 
necessity  to  have  me  punished,  and  made  a  bad  character  on 
your  books,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  let  the  law  take  its 
course  and  offer  no  obstacle  to  the  fulfilment  of  its  requirements." 
"  Then  you  are  yourself  to  blame,  and  you  evidently  wanted  a 
cause  of  complaint."     I  smiled,  and  said,  "  Oh,  Governor,  I  don't 


222  (J Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life. 

want  to  complain  at  all,  but  in  the  blindness  of  your  anxiety  to 
punish  me  I  may  have  a  desire  to  see  how  far  you  will  go." 
This  expression  of  his  about  my  "  wanting  a  cause  of  complaint " 
belongs  peculiarly  to  English  statesmanship  in  the  Government  of 
Ireland.  How  often  have  I  seen  it  stated  in  the  English  press 
that  the  Irish  were  more  in  want  of  a  cause  of  complaint  than 
anything  else.  About  a  fortnight  after  this  adventure  with 
Gambier  I  was  before  him  about  something  else,  and  on  his 
remarking  that  he  had  no  desire  whatever  to  punish  me ;  that  I 
was  treated  with  every  consideration,  leniency,  and  justice ;  I  re- 
minded him  of  the  tailor-scrubbing  report,  asking  him  did  he  call 
that  justice.  "  Oh,  that  was  your  own  fault,  you  refused 
to  give  an  explanation.  You  said  you  wanted  to  have  a 
grievance."  "  I  said  I  wanted  to  have  a  grievance  ?"  "  Yes,  I 
have  it  here  entered  in  the  book."  "  I  said  no  such  thing.  God 
knows  you  did."  "  God  knows,  and  you  know,  I  did  not.  I  said 
I  wanted  to  see  how  far  you  would  go  in  the  blindness  of  your 
rage  to  punish  me." 

This,  I  think,  was  the  time  I  came  before  him  to  ask  for  an  in- 
crease of  diet,  and  he  refused  it.  I  then  asked  that  my  friends  may 
be  permitted  to  send  me  as  much  coarse  food  as  was  sufficient  to 
sustain  nature,  and  this  was  entirely  out  of  the  question.  "  "Well, 
now,  Governor,"  said  I,  "  I  am  surprised  at  that ;  England  would 
not  have  a  sufficiency  of  coarse  food  refused  to  the  political  pri- 
soners of  any  other  nation  ;"  to  which  he  replied,  "  England  has 
no  political  prisoners  now-a-days ;  you  are  here  no  more  than  any 
other  prisoner,  and  you  are  treated  like  every  other  prisoner."  I 
again  smiled,  saying,  "  Ah  !  Governor,  I  think  you're  a  little  mis- 
taken ;  you  don't  keep  the  gas  burning  in  the  cell  of  every  other 
prisoner  all  night,  nor  do  you  strip  every  prisoner  naked,  regularly, 
once  a  day ;  you  don't  take  every  other  prisoner  through  wards, 
and  towers,  and  corridors,  from  his  day-cell,  to  sleep  in  another  cell 
at  night ;  nor  do  you  punish  every  other  prisoner  for  not  doing  two 

jobs  of  work  at  the  same  time  ;  you  don't  " "  Now,  now,  that 

will  do ;  there  is  no  use  in  your  going  on  with  these  frivolous  com- 
plaints. I  can't  grant  your  application  for  more  bread — '  Refused,'  " 
and  as  he  was  writing  the  word  refused  opposite  my  application,  I 
was  marched  out  of  the  room. 

"  England  has  no  political  prisoners  now-a-days."  "  We  were 
no  more  than  any  other  convicts."  This  was  constantly  dinned 
into  our  ears,  until  it  became  "  expedient "  for  the  English  Govern- 
ment to  offer  us  banishment  instead  of  imprisonment ;  then  she 
suddenly  discovered  that  those  of  us  whom  she  decided  upon  re- 
leasing were  political  prisoners.  But  she  holds  to  her  lying  still  in 
the  case  of  the  convicted  Irishmen  who  were  in  the  English  army, 
and  in  the  case  of  Irishmen  who  were  charged  with  buying  arms  in 
England.  It  is  perfectly  legal  for  any  man  to  buy  arms  in  Eng- 
land, but  when  an  Irishman  buys  them,  and  when  any  one  swears 


0  ^Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life.  223 

that  they  were  bought  with  the  intention  of  having  them  sent  to 
Ireland  to  be  used  there  by  rebels,  the  purchasers  are  sent  into 
penal  servitude.  Such  political  prisoners  are  confined  in  England 
to-day,  and  the  English  Government  is  holding  them  behind  the  lie 
that  they  are  not  political  prisoners.  As  I  write  these  lines  in 
New  York  an  English  historian  named  Froude  is  lecturing  in  the 
city  on  the  question  of  Ireland  and  England.  He  admits  he  came 
over  with  the  view  of  inducing  Americans  to  take  the  side  of 
England.  There  is  another  celebrated  lecturer  in  the  city,  a 
Dominican  Friar,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Burke,  who  is  talking  against 
Froude,  and  what  I  notice  in  both  is  that  while  talking  of  the 
700  years'  fight  between  England  and  Ireland,  and  while  appeal- 
ing to  the  American  people,  both  of  them  ignore  the  fact  that 
England  holds  in  her  prisons  to-day  forty  or  fifty  Irishmen  whose 
offence  is  that  they  are  charged  with  entertaining  a  desire  to 
fight  for  Irish  independence  if  they  could  get  the  chance,  and  that 
England  holds  these  men  behind  that  lie — that  they  are  not  political 
prisoners.  It  is  no  wonder  that  Froude  should  forget  this  in  ap- 
pealing to  the  American  people  to  be  favorable  to  England,  and  to 
see  little  but  justice  in  her  treatment  of  Ireland,  but  I  do  not  like 
that  the  priest  should  forget  it.  I  think  the  strongest  point  he 
could  make  against  this  Froude  before  the  American  people  would 
be  to  show  how  these  men  were  detained  and  tortured  in  English 
prisons  while  the  historian  was  appealing  for  American  sympathy 
for  England  against  Ireland.  But  what  I  like  or  dislike  in  the 
matter  is  nothing ;  the  priest  says  he  is  not  a  revolutionist,  and  it 
is  in  the  interest  of  revolution  I  speak.  I  am  sure  Froude  is  not  a 
revolutionist  either,  and  men  who  rot  in  prison  on  the  charge  I 
speak  of  eight  years  after  their  conviction,  may  rot  there  for  all  the 
two  eloquent  gentlemen  care,  while  they  are  calling  on  America  to 
decide  between  England  and  Ireland.  Froude  says  he  would  clasp 
the  hand  of  Ireland  if  she  had  gained  her  independence,  and  I  be- 
lieve there  is  no  priest  in  Ireland  who  would  rather  see  that 
independence  than  Father  Burke.  I  don't  know  any  priest  in 
Ireland  that  would  object  to  it  if  gained,  but  I  don't  know  many 
laboring  to  gain  it.  Notwithstanding  that  I  say  this,  I  believe 
there  are  very  many  of  them  would  fight  for  it  if  we  had  the  fight- 
ing material  in  the  field,  but  it  is  not  their  business  to  bring  it 
there.  The  moral  I  would  have  Irishmen  draw  from  these  observa- 
tion is  this:  English  historians  cannot  be  Irish  revolutionists. 
Neither  can  Irish  priests  be  Irish  revolutionists  openly  or  actively. 
Whatever  they  are  in  their  hearts,  they  must  on  their  tongues  be 
peaceable.     They  cannot  counsel,  originate,  or  organize  a  fight. 

It  is  strange  what  feelings  possess  a  man  sometimes.  I  am  vain 
enough  to  think  this  27th  October,  1872,  that  I  am  writing  words 
that  may  be  read  after  I  am  dead,  and  may  be  a  lesson  to  boys 
whose  blood  burned  about  Ireland  as  mine  did  when  I  was  younger 
than  I  am  to-day,  though  it  is  dispiriting  to  think  the  lesson  may 


224  O' *  Donovan  Rosso1  s  Prison  Life. 

be  needed  after  my  time.  And  if  I  am  before  my  God  when  these 
words  are  read,  and  if  I  will  have  been  judged  for  writing  them,  I 
will  not  be  suffering  anything  for  writing  with  malice  or  ill-will 
against  the  priests  or  against  the  people  of  Ireland,  for  God  is  just, 
and  does  not  punish  for  an  offence  what  the  mind  does  not  contem- 
plate as  such.  I  believe  that  in  the  late  struggle  in  the  old  land 
we  have  had  much  opposition  and  little  aid  from  the  priesthood 
of  Ireland.  The  majority  of  them  are  rebels  at  heart;  the  minority 
pro-English.  But  in  consequence  of  the  discipline  or  of  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  Church,  this  minority  could  speak,  and  did  speak; 
the  majority  could  not  speak,  and  had  to  remain  silent.  One  pro- 
English  priest  in  a  district  could  denounce  us  of  a  Sunday  at  Mass ; 
six  priests,  rebels  at  heart,  in  the  same  district,  had  to  keep  silent ; 
hence  prevailed  the  opinion  that  the  Church  was  against  the  liberty 
of  Ireland.  We  were  denounced  as  atheists  and  infidels,  which  we 
were  not,  and  if  any  of  us  were  "  unfaithful "  there  was  nothing 
helped  to  make  us  so  more  than  the  action  of  the  priests  who  for- 
bade us  the  sacraments,  sent  us  away  from  the  confessional,  and 
threatened  us  with  hell  and  damnation,  because  we  had  taken  the 
oath  to  fight  for  the  liberty  of  our  native  land.  These  gentlemen 
teach,  "  Your  God  first  and  your  country  second,"  which  preaching 
I  accept,  but  the  action  they  took  against  our  movement  looked  to 
me  as  telling  us  that  being  true  to  our  country  was  being  false  to 
God,  and  this  I  will  not  accept.  To  such  I  may  lawfully  say,  "  Yes, 
my  God  first,  my  country  second,  and  you  third." 

If  Ireland  was  peopled  by  no  one  but  holy  nuns  and  priests,  if 
it  was  an  island  of  saints,  I  do  not  believe  that  England  would  give 
it  its  freedom  on  the  score  of  its  sanctity  alone. 

I  know  how  imprudent  it  is  of  me  to  speak  at  all  of  a  priest,  un- 
less I  speak  in  praise  of  him ;  but  prudence  or  imprudence  is  out  of 
the  question  with  me  when  the  truth  has  to  be  told,  and  when  we 
are  face  to  face  with  one  of  the  many  difficulties  that  have  to  be 
considered  and  overcome  in  the  struggle  against  England.  I  know 
how  easy  the  names  of  "  Infidel "  and  "  Atheist  "  can  be  hurled  and 
whispered  around,  and  I  have  experience  myself  of  how  easily  the 
youthful  mind  is  impressed  with  a  terrible  opinion  of  the  man  to 
whom  such  names  are  attached.  When  I  approached  manhood,  I 
became  possessed  of  nine  or  ten  volumes  of  the  Nation  newspaper, 
and  it  was  my  political  library  for  a  year  or  two.  I  became  familiar 
with  Davis,  Meagher,  Mitchell,  and  the  other  Irishmen,  who  left 
their  footprints  on  the  sands  of  that  time,  and  I  well  remember  how 
sorry  I  felt  that  these  men  were  "  Infidels."  I  used  to  say,  what  a 
pity  it  is,  little  dreaming  that  I,  in  my  own  day,  was  to  bf*  the  vic- 
tim of  denunciations  similar  to  those  which  were  hurled  at  the  '48 
men.  And,  perhaps,  there  are  growing  up  in  Ireland  to-day  youths 
burning  with  that  hereditary  love  of  land,  and  hatred  of  its  foe, 
who,  reading  the  clerical  condemnation  of  the  '65  ^aen,  feel  about 
myself  as  I  felt  for  Meagher  and  Mitchell  twenty  years  ago.  When 


C*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  225 

they  see  a  Catholic  Bishop  saying  that  "  Hell  was  neither  hot 
enough  nor  deep  enough  for  us,"  what  wonder  is  it  if,  with  their 
sympathy  wLh  us  in  the  cause  we  would  serve,  they  may  then  pity 
us  that  we'd  serve  it  to  our  ^wn  damnation.  These  reflections  may 
be  as  unpleasant  to  others  as  they  are  to  me,  and  to  get  rid  of  them 
I  will  end  this  chapter  and  begin  a  new  one 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


ASSOCIATION    WITH   ENGLISH  CONVICTS — WORKING   THE   PUMP —IRISH 

AND    ENGLISH    POVERTY    AND   THE    PRIEST EATING  A  WARDER — ■ 

GETTING    BREAD     AT     PRATERS TASK    WORK WETTING     COIR 

PUNISHED  FOR  OBEYING  ORDERS LYING  WARDERS  AND  GAM- 
BIER EXTENSIVE  SEIZURE ALL  MY  WRITING  AND  WRITING  MA- 
TERIAL     CAPTURED CHANGE      OE     QUARTERS     AND     BREAD     AND 

WATER BULLY    POWER'S    ATTEMPT   TO    BULLY     ME SEPARATION 

FROM  OTHER  PRISONERS THE  SOLDIER  PRISONERS TELEGRAPH- 
ING     THROUGH      THE     WALLS HONOR      AMONGST     THIEVES A 

"  CEDAR  "    LOST    AND    MY  SEARCH    FOR  IT JOHNNY  O'BRIEN   AND 

THE    IRISH    REPUBLIC — MY    PRISON    POET TURN    YOUR    FACE    TO 

THE  WALL NEW   CONFEDERATES THE    RED    BLOOD  OF    IRELAND 

WILL    RISE    IN    ENGLAND REFLECTIONS THE  ROAD  TO  FREEDOM 

DANGEROUS — LORD  MAC  AULA  y's  NEW  ZEALANDER — SWALLOWING 
AN     INK-BOTTLE — STEALING     PAPER — JOHN     DEVOY   AND     OTHER 

NEW-COMERS SWALLOWING     POWER'S     PENCIL SKELETON 

WEIGHT. 

On  my  arrival  in  Millbank  I  made  an  effort  to  get  dissociated 
from  the  English  convicts,  but  it  was  a  fruitless  one.  After  a  time, 
however,  the  authorities  had  to  change  their  tactics  and  dissociate 
me  from  them  of  their  own  accord;  then  their  efforts  were  to  keep 
me  away  from  them  altogether.  I  went  to  Captain  Gambier  one 
day  with  this  application :  "  Governor,  during  my  hour's  exercise 
I  am  put  working  the  pump  in  company  with  your  murderers  and 
thieves,  and  I  ask  to  be  relieved  of  their  companionship."     "  Cer- 


226  O^ Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life, 

lainly  not,  you  are  no  more  than  any  other  prisoner  here,  and  you 
must  take  your  exercise  the  same  as  others."  "Well,  what  do  you 
sav  if  I  refuse  to  take  exercise  at  all,  and  remain  in  my  cell  during 
the  hour?  I  don't  want  such  exercise."  "You  cannot  do  that; 
we  have  to  attend  to  your  health,  and  you  will  have  to  obey  the 
orders  laid  down  by  the  doctor,  or  be  punished."  "  Then,  you  will 
not  allow  me  to  remain  in  my  cell,  or  remain  separate  in  the  yard 
during  exercise."  "  No."  "  Very  well,  that  is  all  I  want  to  see  you 
about."     "  Right  about  face,  forward,"  and  out  I  marched. 

Working  the  pump  was  not  unpleasant  in  its  way;  it  tended  to 
develop  the  muscles,  and  it  gave  me  a  lot  of  thievish  information. 
Thirty  of  us  were  in  the  gang,  and  fifteen  of  us  stood  at  each  side 
of  the  crank,  facing  each  other.  We  laid  hold  of  the  iron  bars  hand 
after  hand;  the  officer  cried  "  On,"  we  worked;  our  bodies  bent, 
our  heads  came  together  at  every  revolution  of  the  iron,  and  a 
whisper  of  some  kind  passed.  Those  professionals  could  whisper 
without  moving  a  lip  or  a  muscle  of  the  face,  and  I  took  much 
interest  in  listening  to  their  stories.  They  all  trusted  me ;  they 
knew  I  wouldn't  "  stag;"  and  while  I  was  with  them  I  learned  how 
several  celebrated  burglaries  were  committed,  who  committed  them 
and  what  was  done  with  the  "  swag."  This  was  a  reception  prison, 
and  new  hands  coming  in  were  in  great  demand  for  news.  I  wanted 
news  from  them,  too,  and  when  I  could  not  get  near  a  new  importa- 
tion, those  who  could  would  learn  as  much  as  possible  from  him 
about  Ireland,  and  come  alongside  of  me  next  day  and  tell  me  how 
they  were  going  on  there.  Will  I  say  it  ?  Yes.  Nearly  half  these 
men  were  of  Irish  parents,  and  their  crimes  were  traceable  to  poverty 
and  whisky — two  things  which  the  Irish  people  could  well  afford  to 
get  rid  of,  and  which  are  a  curse  to  any  people  they  afflict. 

I  was  working  on  the  pump  one  day,  and  the  man  facing  me  was 
whispering  a  story  about  Chatham  Prison.  He  said  "  It  was  the 
hungriest  place  he  was  ever  in;  they  felt  half-starved  and  the  work 
was  very  hard.  Many  of  us,"  said  he,  "  struck  work  for  more  food, 
but  that  only  brought  us  more  hunger,  for  the  whole  of  them  didn't 
stick  out.  I  told  them  there  was  no  chance  of  getting  an  increase 
until  we  killed  a  'screw'  and  ate  him.  I  offered  to  kill  him  if  the 
others  would  help  me  to  eat  him,  but  the  whole  of  them  would  not 
agree  to  that,  and  I  got  so  disgusted  with  them  that  I  was  glad  to 
be  sent  away.  You  see,  there  would  be  no  use  in  us  killing  him 
unless  we  ate  him,  and  until  one  of  those  '  Blokes '  is  eaten  they'll 
keep  starving  us."  I  looked  at  the  fellow  as  much  as  to  say,  are  you 
serious,  and  I  believe  he  was.  He  became  a  great  friend  of  mine, 
would  do  anything  at  all  for  me.  When  I'd  be  after  spending  a  few 
days  on  bread  and  water  he'd  slope  his  way  till  he'd  get  alongside 
of  me  on  the  pump,  and  then  he'd  keep  giving  me  sympathy  by 
cursing  my  tormentors  as  wickedly  as  he  could. 

"  They  want  to  kill  you.     Can't  they  let  you  alone  as  they  let 
us."     Another  curse,  and  so  on,  till  he'd  wind  up  by  saying,  "  you 


0' 'Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  227 

must  be  very  hungry.  I'll  bring  you  my  breakfast  loaf  to  chapel 
to-morrow."  "  No,  no."  "  Yes  I  will,  and  by  heavens  if  you  get 
me  into  any  trouble  by  not  taking  it  quickly  when  I  pass  it  to  you 
I'll  have  your  life."  To-morrow  morning  would  come,  he'd  be  seated 
on  the  same  stool  with  me  and  live  or  six  others  between  us.  The 
officer  in  charge  of  us  would  turn  his  head,  and  the  loaf  would  be 
turned  from  one  to  another  till  it  reached  me.  There  was  no  alter- 
native but  to  be  as  quick  as  another  in  taking  and  hiding  it,  other- 
wise the  whole  party  might  get  into  trouble. 

Some  people  ask  me  to-day  how  I  was  able  to  stand  all  the  "br  ead 
and  water  "  I  got,  but  I  tell  you  that  I  was  supported  by  those  un- 
fortunate convicts.  And  I  suppose  the  authorities  themselves  won- 
dered that  their  starvation  process  was  not  having  the  desired  effect. 
Barrett,  the  son  of  a  Bandon  man,  knew  two  masons  named  Mur- 
ray that  I  knew  in  Dunmanway,  and  he  not  alone  should  have  me 
take  bread  from  him,  but^  as  he  was  ward  cleaner,  he  would  steal 
pens  and  pencils,  and  scrape  up  bits  of  white  paper  for  me.  Mur- 
phy, a  Ballincollig  man,  who  was  sentenced  to  five  years  on  a  charge 
of  manslaughter,  told  me  he  saw  me  at  a  certain  time  at  the  house  of 
Tim  Donoghue,  from  Ross,  in  London,  and  I  was  there.  It  was  Bar- 
rett's uncle  who  was  killed  in  the  fight  for  which  Murphy  was  sen- 
tenced, and  when  Barrett  came  to  know  this,  Murphy  had  to  be 
sent  into  another  party,  as  they  could  not  live  in  peace.  When  he 
left  he  had  one  of  my  surreptitious  letters,  as  he  was  expecting  to 
be  sent  to  another  prison,  and  he  said  he  Mould  try  and  pass  it  into 
the  outside  world  as  he  was  passing  through  it,  but  I  did  not  hear 
of  either  since. 

We  got  a  bath  once  a  fortnight,  and  were  taken  to  it  during  the 
time  we  were  at  exercise.  There  were  four  troughs,  with  holes  in 
the  side  boards  to  let  the  water  pass  through  all.  Four  men  were 
called,  and  when  they  had  bathed  and  dressed,  four  more,  and  so 
on  till  all  were  done.  Whether  by  accident  or  design,  it  scarcely 
ever  happened  that  I  was  one  of  the  first  called,  and  I  never  had 
clean  water  more  than  once  or  twice.  The  dirty  soap  suds  would 
scum  the  surface.  Some  of  the  officers  in  charge  would  make  me 
strip  and  go  in,  but  others  of  them  would  not  press  me,  contenting 
themselves  with  having  me  wash  my  feet.  This  was  the  only  mat- 
ter remedied  by  Knox  and  Pollock.  After  their  visit,  and  my  rep- 
resentation to  them  on  this  head,  I  got  clean  water  every  time  I 
bathed. 

I  could  not  forget  Gambier,  and  I  had  to  come  before  him  again 
to  bring  the  conduct  and  the  contrary  orders  of  his  officers  under 
his  notice.  When  I  was  punished  repeatedly  for  not  doing  my 
task-work  every  day,  the  two  officers  that  came  to  strip  me  began 
talking  to  me  while  they  were  searching  my  clothes,  asking  me 
why  I  was  not  picking  my  quantity  of  coir.  I  told  them  I  was 
doing  my  best,  but  the  little  cords  were  so  small  and  hard  that  it 
was  a  difficult  task.     The  principal  officer  said — 


228  0"* Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

"  We  have  a  man,  Murphy,  in  another  ward,  and  he  can  do  his 
work  in  three  hours.  When  he  gets  his  bundle  of  coir,  he  puts  it 
into  his  bucket  of  water,  lets  it  soak  there  awhile,  then  takes  it 
out  and  tramples  it  till  he  has  it  softened  and  torn  asunder." 
Saying  this,  he  took  hold  of  my  bundle  of  coir  and  put  it  into  my 
water-bucket.  He  told  me  to  squeeze  the  water  out  of  it,  and  when 
I  laid  it  on  the  floor,  he  trampled  on  it  in  the  Murphy  fashion  for  a 
few  minutes.  I  went  at  it  alter  him,  and  I  found  that  his  prepara- 
tory process  made  the  performance  of  my  task  easier.  But  there  is 
a  sequel  to  this  story,  and  here  it  is.  Next  week  I  was  placed 
under  report  on  a  charge  of  wetting  my  coir,  and,  as  well  as  I  re- 
member now,  I  think  I  let  the  charge  go  on  without  making  any 
reply  to  it ;  but  the  following  week  I  went  before  my  friend  Capt. 
Gambier,  and  charged  the  Governor  with  punishing  me  for  acting 
in  obedience  to  orders.  I  then  told  how  Cooper,  a  principal,  and 
another  principal,  whose  name  I  forget,  gave  me  the  instructions 
about  wetting  the  coir.  The  two  were  sent  for,  and  denied  every 
word  of  it.  I  asked  Cpoper  if  he  did  not  tell  the  story  about 
Murphy,  and  I  asked  the  other  if  he  did  not  trample  on  the  coir, 
and  they  put  on  an  indignant  face  to  think  they  should  say  or 
do  such  things.  I  think  I  was  getting  mad  myself  to  think  I  was 
foiled  this  way,  and,  as  a  last  resource,  I  said  to  the  Director — ■ 
"  Why,  Mr.  Brown,  the  ward  officer,  was  present,  and  I  ask  you, 
Captain  Gambier,  to  send  for  this  man,  and  not  let  him  know  what 
he  is  wanted  for  till  he  is  in  your  presence." 

Brown  was  sent  for,  and  his  evidence  corroborated  mine.  Then 
the  Governor  brought  him  to  account,  why  he  allowed  coir  to  be 
wet  in  his  ward,  and  his  reply  was,  that  he  had  no  one  coir-picking 
but  me,  and  the  coir  I  got  was  next  to  impossible  to  pick  without 
wetting.  Then  Power,  the  head  warder,  came  in  with  his  say,  and 
said  he  was  twenty-five  years  in  that  prison,  and  never  saw  a  bit  of 
coir  wet  there,  which,  to  my  mind,  was  a  big  lie,  because  I  learned 
from  the  prisoners  that  the  practice  was  general;  however,  as 
charges  had  to  be  trumped  up  against  me,  practice  or  precedent 
was  nothing.  I  told  Captain  Gambier  to  bear  in  mind  that  not 
alone  was  1  put  on  punishment  work  when  no  other  prisoner  in  my 
ward  was  on  it,  but  I  got  work  that  was  next  to  impossible  to  do, 
and  that  I  was  punished,  in  doing  it,  for  acting  according  to  the  di- 
rections of  the  officers.  "  It  is  all  your  own  fault,"  said  he ;  "  why 
didn't  you  tell  the  Governor  when  the  charge  was  preferred  against 
you?"  "  No,"  said  I,  "  I  have  a  desire  to  have  a  thorough  expe- 
rience of  how  you  conduct  those  model  prisons  of  your,  and  I  have 
no  wish  to  interfere  with  the  requirements  of  the  law  in  my  case." 
"  I  see  you  are  getting  into  a  very  bad  spirit,  and  instead  of  im- 
proving it  is  getting  worse  you  are. ,  God  knows  I  am  sorry  for 
you."  "  You  may,  but  be  very  sure  the  present  style  of  treatment 
will  never  improve  me."  And  so  ended  this  interview  with  my 
polished  Director. 


O*  Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life.  229 

In  May,  '67,  a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  my  dream,  but  my 
reader  may  be  sure  it  was  no  change  for  the  better.  I  was  at  my 
Sunday's  exercise  and  working  at  the  pump,  at  a  crank,  in  an  isolated 
corner  between  two  walls,  for  by  this  time  they  had  put  me  away 
into  this  punishment  corner,  thinking  I  was  deriving  some  informa- 
tion or  consolation  from  the  whisperings  of  the  other  convicts  when 
mixed  up  with  them  while  pumping.  It  was  Sunday,  and  while  the 
crank  was  going  round  I  heard  an  order  "  Halt,"  and  when  the  halt 
was  made  the  call  of  "Rossa,"  I  looked  behind  and  saw  two  officers 
motioning  to  me  to  "  come  on."  They  conducted  me  to  my  cell  and 
ordered  me  to  strip.  "  What's  up  now,  Governor?"  "You  know 
well  what's  up,"  said  one  of  them,  "  and  we  want  you  to  strip."  I 
went  through  the  process  and  nothing  was  found  on  my  person  or  in 
my  clothes.  "  Put  out  your  broom."  I  obeyed  orders,  and  when 
they  locked  the  door  I  began  to  ask  myself  what  the  deuce  can  it 
mean  ?  I  made  for  the  window  and,  woe  of  woes,  there  was  no  black 
thread  tied  to  the  bar — my  ink-bottle  was  gone.  I  went  to  the  slit 
under  my  bed  board  and  my  two  steel  nibs  were  gone.  I  searched 
between  the  gas  pipe  and  the  wall  and  my  writing  pen  was  gone ;  I 
went  to  another  hole  in  the  corner  of  my  cell  and  the  letter  I  had 
concealed  there  was  gone.  There  was  a  general  seizure — a  clear 
sweep  had  been  made  of  all  my  treasured  articles.  While  meditat- 
ing on  the  misfortunes  that  await  humanity,  and  the  "  bread  and 
water  "  that  was  in  store  for  me,  my  cell  was  opened  and  in  marched 
big  Power  with  four  or  five  jailers.  "Tell  me  where  you  got 
that  ink-bottle  ? "  The  way  he  stood  before  me,  and  the  author- 
itative tone  in  which  he  put  the  question,  stirred  my  bad  blood,  and, 
moving  close  to  him,  looking  up  into  his  face,  I  said,  with  as  much 
opposition  as  I  could  put  into  my  tone,  "  I  will  not  tell  you  where 
I  got  that  ink-bottle."  He  came  in  with  his  guards  to  bully  me,  but 
he  quailed  down  immediately  and  sneaked  out,  telling  the  officers  to 
take  me  on.  I  was  taken  to  another  cell  in  another  part  of  the  prison, 
and  kept  there  till  further  troubles  removed  me  again. 

When  I  was  summoned  to  the  bar  of  justice  on  the  charge  of  hav- 
ing ink-bottles,  pens,  and  letters  concealed,  I  was  much  amused  at 
listening  to  Power's  complaint  as  to  the  insult  I  offered  to  himself. 
"  When  I  asked  him,  sir,  where  he  got  the  ink-bottle,  you  should 
see  the  way  he  swelled  up  to  me  as  if  he  would  bully  me  from  doing 
my  duty.  If  I  was  the  commonest  man  in  England  he  could  not 
speak  to  me  worse  than  he  did.  I  am  twenty -five  years  in  this 
prison  and  I  never  got  such  an  insult.  I  never  came  across  a  more 
refractory  prisoner."  I  smiled  at  the  compliment.  I  was  ordered 
seventy-two  hours  on  bread  and  water,  and  it  was  further  ordered 
that  I  be  not  allowed  to  approach  any  other  prisoner,  that  I  be  ex- 
ercised in  a  separate  yard,  and  that  I  be  taken  to  chapel  in  a  separate 
manner.  So  that  this  was  forcing  them  to  do  what  I  asked  them  to 
do  at  first — to  separate  me  from  the  other  prisoners.  My  whole 
fight  was,  to  force  them  to  recognize  a  difference  between  us  politi- 


230  O* Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

cal  prisoners  and  the   ordinary  convicts,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
do  so  in  the  end. 

I  don't  know  how  it  came  to  pass  that  all  my  property  was  seized 
in  my  cells.  I  had  two  of  these  cells — a  day  one  and  a  night  one. 
The  night  one  happened  to  be  situated  in  the  ward  where  were  con- 
fined ten  or  twelve  of  the  Irishmen  who  were  convicted  when  they 
were  on  English  soldier  service  in  Ireland. 

After  going  to  bed  one  night  I  heard  some  tapping  on  the  wall 
at  the  foot  of  my  bed.  Hallo,  said  I,  this  is  a  signal  from  some 
one,  and  I  set  about  thinking  how  to  answer  it.  I  turned  my  bed 
upside  down — that  is,  I  changed  my  head  to  my  feet,  and  I  signaled 
in  reply.  The  gas  was  burning  in  my  cell,  and  the  watch,  on  com- 
ing round,  seeing  how  I  had  transposed  myself,  cried  out,  "  What 
are  you  doing  that  way ;  can't  you  sleep  as  every  one  else  sleeps  ?" 
"  Now,  Governor,  what's  the  use  in  kicking  up  a  noise ;  don't  you 
know  that  every  one  else  has  no  light  in  his  cell.  If  you  put  out 
the  gas  I  will  change  myself,  but  I  could  not  sleep  well  the  other 
way,  as  the  light  was  full  in  my  face."  He  seemed  to  be  satisfied, 
and  walked  away.  I  got  a  chance  of  signaling  a  few  sentences 
through  the  wall,  and  I  learned  that  the  man  in  the  next  cell  to  me 
was  one  of  the  Irish  soldiers.  We  formed  a  signal  to  recognize  each 
other  at  the  chapel  next  morning,  and  made  arrangements  to 
have  a  long  talk  next  evening,  before  we  went  to  bed,  as  I  got  into 
this  cell  half  an  hour  before  bed-time,  and  during  that  half  hour  the 
officers  were  so  busy  locking  up  we  could  have  any  amount  of  con- 
versation unknown  to  them.  But  mind,  the  conversation  was  to  be 
through  the  wall,  and  it  was  not  such  a  wall  as  Pyramus  andThisbe 
had,  with  a  slit  in  it,  through  which  the  lovers  could  kiss  each 
other,  but  a  strong  stone  and  brick  one,  built  to  keep  prisoners  se- 
cure, and  keep  them  apart.  But  stone  walls  will  not  prevent  souls 
from  communicating,  and  prisoners  invented  a  scheme  by  which  they 
could  cheat  their  jailers  out  of  this  forbidden  consolation^  I  learnt 
this,  and  through  it  I  became  acquainted  with  Augustine  Elligot 
Costello  andRickard  O'Sullivan  Burke  before  I  ever  saw  their  faces. 
I  met  John  Devoy  through  stone  walls,  when  the  authorities  were 
resorting  to  all  tricks  to  keep  me  from  meeting  any  one.  But  these 
adventures  are  a  year  and  a-half  in  advance  of  Keating's  acquaint- 
ance. I  will  not  give  the  details  until  I  come  to  them  in  the  due 
order  of  time. 

Next  morning,  at  chapel,  I  recognized  my  acquaintance  by  the 
signal  given  to  me  the  night  before.  He,  with  ten  or  twelve  com- 
panions, were  sitting  three  stools  behind  me.  That  night  I  had  a 
long  talk  with  him.  I  learned  that  his  name  was  Keating,  and  he 
belonged  to  Clare;  that  he  was  in  the  Carbineers  a  long  time;  that 
he  escorted  Thomas  Clarke  Luby  to  prison,  and  also  had  the  unde- 
frired  honor  of  escorting  John  Mitchel  on  his  way  to  penal  servitude 
in  '48  ;  that  Foley,  who  belonged  to  his  party,  used  to  make  up  my 
cell  every  morning  after  I  left  it,  and  that  any  message  I  left  in  it 


O*  Donovan  Iiossa?s  Prison  Life.  231 

would  be  found  by  him  and  attended  to.  I  told  him  to  tell  Foley 
to  look  behind  the  card  that  was  hanging  on  the  wall  and  he  would 
find  a  letter  from  me,  which  they  were  to  get  into  the  world  if  they 
could.  It  was  one  of  the  reserves  I  had  in  case  a  chance  offered  of 
passing  it  out,  and  I  placed  it  behind  the  rules  and  regulations  that 
hung  on  the  wall.  That  was  to  be  the  post-office  between  me  and 
the  soldiers ;  but  the  anthorities  made  a  seizure  of  all  my  post- 
offices,  and  I  do  not  know  was  it  here  or  in  the  other  cell  they  made 
the  first  discovery.  Possibly  it  was  Li  this  one,  as  a  principal  officer 
goes  around  every  day  on  a  tour  of  inspection;  if  he  only  touched 
my  card  the  letter  would  fall  down,  and  then  a  general  search  would 
be  ordered  to  discover  my  writing  materials.  This  is  the  only  way 
I  can  account  for  the  detection — either  that  or  another  prisoner  in 
one  of  the  cells  under  us  might  have  been  listening  while  we  were 
rapping,  and  have  given  information. 

I  lost  the  society  of  the  soldiers,  and  I  did  not  see  any  of  them 
after  that.  My  cell  was  changed,  my  place  in  the  chapel  was 
changed,  my  place  of  exercise  was  changed,  and — most  wonderful 
change  of  all — my  closet-paper  was  changed  to  old  rags. 

I  think  I  may  claim  the  honor  of  driving  Gambier,  Stopford,  Du 
Cane,  Fagan,  and  seven  or  eight  other  prison  directors,  to  their  wits- 
ends.  They  never  had  such  a  case  before ;  they  never  had  to  contend 
with  such  a  persistent  effort  on  the  part  of  a  prisoner  to  make  his 
treatment  known.  Here  they  were,  twelve  men,  versed  in  every  ap- 
pliance requisite  to  break  the  most  unruly  into  discipline,  having 
power  to  starve  him  into  quiet,  eternal  repose  if  he  could  not  be 
brought  under  any  other  way.  Only  think  of  these  cool  calculators 
— representatives  of  the  power  that  would  open  all  the  other  prisons 
of  the  world  to  the  gaze  of  humanity — sitting  down  in  council,  dis- 
cussing the  measures  that  were  to  bo  adopted  to  prevent  me  from 
making  known  how  they  were  treating  me,  and  gravely  deciding 
that  I  was  to  have  no  more  waste  paper  for  "  purposes  of  nature," 
but  that  the  warder  in  charge  of  me  was  to  supply  me  with  old  rags 
as  a  substitute. 

In  my  new  cell  the  most  vigilant  watch  was  kept  over  me,  yet 
all  the  watches  in  the  world  could  not  keep  the  sympathy  of  the 
other  prisoners  from  me,  and  their  sympathy  brought  me  relief. 
When  a  man  is  in  such  difficulties  as  make  it  patent  to  all  around 
him  that  there  is  no  possible  return  to  be  made  for  any  assistance 
given  to  him,  you  cannot  imagine  his  feelings  when  he  finds  his 
fellow-man  so  noble  as  to  give  him  a  helping  hand.  And  when  this 
helping  hand  is  extended  by  those  whom  society  regards  as  the 
vilest  of  its  component  parts,  how  noble  must  the  noblest  of  them 
be  if  man  had  a  fair  field  for  the  exercise  of  his  humanity.  But, 
after  all,  there  may  be  as  noble  elements  of  human  nature  in  the 
thieves  I  met  in  Millbank  as  in  the  Lords  and  Commons  of  England- 
Had  the  lords  been  born  and  reared  as  the  thieves  were,  and  had  the 


232  0' }  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

thieves  been  born  lords,  I  would  bet  "  my  bottom  dollar  "  that  we'd 
have  as  good  thieves  and  as  good  lords  as  we  have  at  present. 

My  "  character  "  seemed  to  follow  me  to  my  new  quarters,  and  my 
new  neighbors  seemed  to  know  all  about  me.  They  knew  that  paper 
and  pencil,  pen  and  ink  were  things  much  desired  by  me,  and  as 
they  were  sweeping  and  scrubbing  the  hall  in  the  morning  they 
would  linger  outside  my  door  to  whisper  consolation  to  me  through 
the  slit  in  the  wall.  "  Cheer  up,  Rossa,  we'll  stand  to  you."  He'd 
pass  by,  and  another  would  approach  whispering,  "  Do  you  want  a 
cedar  V"  I  did  not  know  at  the  time  what  a  cedar  was,  but  as  I  was 
in  the  want  of  everything  that  creation  contained,  I  whispered  back 
the  reply, "  yes,"  and  immediately  a  splendid  lead  pencil  three  or 
four  inches  long  was  hurled  in  through  the  slit.  Where  in  the 
world  was  I  to  hide  it!  The  stripping  naked  and  the  searching  of 
the  cell  was  to  come  on  by-and-bye. 

I  should  find  a  hiding  place  or  be  detected.  There  was  a  slit 
between  my  bed-board  and  the  wall;  when  I  probed  it  with  my  tin 
knife  I  could  find  no  bottom,  but,  as  I  could  find  no  other  place,  I 
decided  on  trying  this.  Where  was  I  to  get  a  bit  of  thread  ?  Yes, 
there  was  the  towel ;  I  drew  a  couple  of  threads  out  of  it,  and, 
twisting  them  into  one,  tied  it  to  my  pencil  and  let  it  down  into  the 
hole.  I  found  bottom,  and  then  I  hitched  the  end  of  my  line  to  a 
splinter  [  fashioned  on  the  edge  of  the  board.  This  was  the  first 
morning  I  came  into  my  new  cell ;  the  report  against  me  came  on 
that  day,  and  I  had  my  three  days'  bread  and  water  in  a  punish- 
ment cell.  When  I  came  back  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to  run  to 
my  hiding-place  and  see  if  the  "cedar"  was  all  right;  but,  alas,  it 
was  gone.  I  could  not  find  the  end  of  the  string,  and  the  pencil  lay 
in  the  black  hole  below.  How  was  I  to  recover  it  ?  Yes,  there  was 
one  chance,  and  I  would  try  it.  Next  morning  I  brought  in  a 
bucket-full  of  water  to  scrub  my  cell ;  I  threw  some  of  it  into  the 
hole  to  see  if  my  cedar  would  float  up.  It  did  not  come  at  the  first 
attempt,  and  when  the  waters  had  subsided  I  filled  the  hole  a  second 
time.  'Twas  no  use.  I  kept  working  at  that  hole  till  I  had  used 
up  all  my  bucket  of  water;  no  pencil  made  its  appearance.  I  gave 
up  the  search  in  despair  and  prepared  myself  for  consequences,  as  I 
knew  the  water  was  to  turn  up  somewhere.  I  dried  my  cell  and 
went  to  work  at  picking  my  coir.  In  about  an  hour  or  so  the  water 
had  moistened  matters,  and  it  began  to  ooze  out  from  under  my 
bedstead.  My  cell  was  soon  flooded,  and  the  warder  came  and 
asked  what  was  the  matter.  "  By  Jove,  Governor,  I  spilled  my 
pail  of  water  to-day,  and  some  of  it  must  have  gone  down  that 
slit  there  between  the  bedstead  and  the  wall."  That  was  truth ;  I 
did  spill  the  water,  and  I  took  very  good  care  that  some  of  it  went 
down  the  slit.  I  never  told  these  gentlemen  a  lie,  but  I  never  told 
them  the  whole  truth  either.  I  was  ordered  to  dry  up  my  cell, 
and,  as  the  water  kept  running  out  all  day,  I  had  to  keep  drying  it 
up  all  day.     Next  morning  I  was  ordered  temporarily  into  another 


0"* Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life,  233 

cell,  and  when  I  came  back  to  my  own  I  found  the  slit  had  been 
plastered  up  with  cement,  and  not  a  hole  had  been  left  anywhere 
that  as  much  as  a  pin's  point  could  enter. 

I  whispered  my  misfortune  to  my  neighbors,  and  I  was  not  long 
without  another  pencil.  The  greatest  difficulty  I  had  was  in  mak- 
ing them  understand  that  I  was  in  want  of  as  much  paper  as  would 
enable  me  to  let  them  know  in  writing  what  I  wanted.  At  last 
they  threw  me  in  some  brown  paper,  and  next  morning  I  had  a  note 
written,  telling  what  I  needed.  In  course  of  time,  we  established  a 
post-office  in  the  water-closet,  and  every  morning  regularly,  for 
weeks,  I  found  letters  there.  It  was  here  I  got  anything  like 
an  account  of  what  had  occurred  in  the  world  since  I  left  it.  It  was 
here  I  first  learned  how  everything  had  failed ;  how  all  the  hopes 
of  early  years  had  been  disappointed.  Johnny  O'Brien  was  in  an- 
other part  of  the  ward  ;  he  had  a  chance  of  calling  at  my  post-office, 
and  he  gave  me  a  detailed  account  of  bow  thin  s  went  on.  He  was 
a  druo-o-ist's  clerk  in  London ;  he  left  his  situation ;  went  to  Ireland 
and  enlisted  in  a  regiment  there,  in  order  to  teach  love  of  country 
to  the  Irishmen  who  were  in  it.  When  the  trouble  came,  he  was 
put  in  prison,  got  some  kind  of  a  trial,  and  was  sentenced  to  penal 
servitude  for  life.  His  sentence  was  read  to  him  in  presence  of  the 
regiment,  and  when  all  the  ceremonies  of  "  degradation  "  were  gone 
through,  he  gave  a  hurrah  for  "the  Irish  Republic."  He  was  a 
well-educated,  handsome  young  fellow,  about  21  years  of  age.  At 
the  time  I  met  him  in  Millbank,  he  told  me  he  would  be  allowed  to 
rejoin  his  regiment  if  he  recanted  and  volunteered  for  India ;  but  he 
would  not  do  it.  He  is  still  in  prison  in  England.  I  met  him  two 
years  afterwards  in  Chatham,  and  learned  that  he  was  all  along  sub- 
jected to  unusually  severe  treatment.  Murtagh  and  Kavanagh,  two 
other  soldiers  of  the  same  regiment,  were  sentenced  with  him,  one 
to  five,  and  the  other  to  seven  years.  These  are  out  of  prison  now, 
but  O'Brien  is  still  in,  the  Prime  Minister  of  England  meanly  refus- 
ing to  look  upon  him  as  a  political  prisoner. 

There  was  a  poet  in  this  crowd  of  neighbors  I  got  into,  and  one 
day  I  found  in  the  post-office  verses  from  him.  They  were  written 
in  the  heroic  style.  I  mean  in  the  style  that  made  a  hero  of  me. 
The  poet  begged  of  me  to  preserve  them  as  a  memento  of  him,  but 
the  first  thing  I  did  after  reading  them  was  to  burn  them  with 
the  gas  that  was  burning  in  my  cell  at  early  morning — for  to  pre- 
serve these  verses  would  be  certain  destruction  to  me. 

They  were  written  by  an  Englishman,  and  taking  all  things  into 
consideration,  they  were  not  very  badly  written.  I  was  lauded  as 
a  man  who  was  suffering  for  his  country,  and  who  even  in  prison 
was  trying  to  carry  on  the  fight  against  the  enemy. 

When  my  gang  was  taken  out  to  get  their  hour's  exercise  I  was 
allowed  to  walk  a  respectable  distance  behind  them,  but  on  no  con 
sideration  was  I  allowed  so  near  the  last  man  as  to  be  able  to  hear 
a  whisper  from  him.     I  cheated  the  warder  sometimes  as  we  were 


234  O1 *  Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life. 

passing  through  a  winding  tower  down  into  the  lower  yard.  The 
last  man  would  loiter  behind  about  the  middle  of  the  stairs ;  I'd 
step  fast  to  catch  what  he  had  to  whisper  or  give  to  me,  while  the 
jailer  was  locking  the  tower  gate. 

We  had  to  pass  through  a  small  yard,  in  which  I  was  left  in 
charge  of  an  officer,  while  the  others  were  taken  to  the  general  exer- 
cise ground.  When  the  hour  was  up  my  party  had  to  pass  through 
again,  and  I  had  to  go  in  after  them,  but  lest  any  signal  should 
pass  between  us,  I  had  to  turn  my  face  to  the  wall  while  they  were 

f  entering,  the  officer  standing  between  me  and  them,  so  that  I  would 
not  be  able  to  have  even  a  squint  at  them.  At  a  particular  time 
a  very  imperious  officer  was  my  supervisor,  and  he  issued  his  orders 
in  such  an  impudent  tone  that  I  one  day  refused  to  turn  my  face  to 
the  wall.  He  caught  hold  of  me  and  turned  me  around,  and  as 
soon  as  his  hands  were  off  I  returned  to  the  front.  He  caught 
me  again,  and  I  said,  "  Take  your  hands  off  me."  "  Turn  your  face 
to  the  wall."  "  I  will  not."  "  You  must."  "  I  tell  you  I  will  not; 
you  can  report  me,  but  you  are  not  allowed  to  assault  me;  I  am  to 
be  treated  here  like  any  other  prisoner,  and  1  see  no  one  else  turn- 
ing his  face  to  the  wall  during  exercise."  He  let  go  his  hold  of  me, 
but,  of  course,  reported  my  disobedience  to  his  superiors. 

In  this  little  yard  was  a  shed,  in  which  men  finished  the  mats 
that  were  made  in  the  cells,  and  outside  the  shed  three  or  four  men 
occasionally  worked,  packing  the  oakum  that  was  picked.  These 
men  saw  my  row  with  the  officer,  and  it  must  have  brought  me 
some  of  their  sympathy,  because,  in  a  few  days  after,  as  I  was  pac- 
ing around,  I  thought  I  heard  the  whisper,  "  Do  you  want  any- 
thing?" The  man  who  gave  the  whisper  had  his  back  turned  to 
me,  and  soon  as  I  was  again  passing  near  to  where  he  stood,  I  trod 
the  ground  lightly,  and  kept  my  ears  open.  Sure  enough,  there  it 
was  again — "Do  you  want  anything?" — and  the  next  time  I  was 
passing  I  whispered,  "  A  cedar."  Then,  for  five  or  six  times  that  I 
went  around,  we  gave  question  and  answer,  and  it  was  arranged 
that  I  go  to  the  closet  after  him  next  day,  and  I  would  get  a  mes- 

■  sage  from  him  in  a  certain  corner  of  it.  I  went,  and  found  a  letter, 
a  pencil  and  paper.  He  could  get  me  anything  I  wanted  for  a  little 
money,  and  next  day  I  wrote  back,  giving  him  an  order  for  three 
pounds,  payable  when  presented  to  a  friend  in  London.  I  wrote 
this  order  so  that  the  three  pounds  could  not  be  changed  to  a  higher 
figure,  and  it  was  returned  to  me  with  a  request  that  I  would  sign 
my  name  on  a  blank  leaf  of  paper  that  was  given.  I  gave  an  excuse 
for  not  doing  this,  and  before  our  negotiations  were  ended  I  got  into 
trouble,  out  of  which  I  was  not  released  for  six  or  eight  months. 

As  I  was  shaving,  I  cut  my  neck,  and  the  blood  flowed  freely  on 
the  flags.  There  was  a  little  pool  of  it,  and  the  circumstance  bring- 
ing to  my  mind  some  story  of  a  Duke  of  Burgundy  wounded  on  a 
battle-field,  exclaiming  in  French — "  See  how  flows  the  red  blood  of 
Burgundy" — I  took  hold  of  my  slate  pencil,  and  dipping  it  in  the 


O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  235 

blood,  I  wrote  on  the  door  of  my  cell  these  words — "  Le  sang  rouge 
d'lrlande  coule  en  Angleterre  " — "  the  red  blood  of  Ireland  flows  in 
England." 

As  I  had  done  shaving,  and  before  I  had  wiped  the  blood  off 
the  door,  the  officer  came  to  take  me  to  exercise,  and  while  I  was 
out,  the  writing  was  discovered.  I  was  ordered  in  from  exercise 
before  my  hour  was  up,  and  when  I  came  in  I  was  ordered  to  put 
out  my  broom. 

Next  day  I  was  taken  before  the  Governor,  and  while  all  the  offi- 
cers around  looked  daggers  at  me,  and  trembled  with  horror  at  the 
terrible  import  of  my  prophecy,  I  was  charged  with  writing  on  my 
door,  in  letters  of  blood — 

"  The  red  blood  of  Ireland  will  rise  in  England." 

"  What  have  you  to  say  to  this  charge  ?" 

"  I  say  it  is  false." 

"  What  ?"     "  I  sav  it  is  false." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  those  words  were  not  written  on  your 
door?"     "I  do." 

Then  the  evidence  was  taken  how  one  officer  went  to  search  my 
cell,  and  how  he  saw  the  writing ;  how  he  went  for  another  officer  ; 
how  these  two  went  for  head  warder  Power;  and  how  he  decided 
that,  as  the  writing  was  in  Latin,  it  was  better  send  for  a  school- 
master ;  how  the  schoolmaster  came  and  went  for  another  school- 
master ;  how,  in  the  end,  three  or  four  of  the  schoolmasters  together 
translated  the  Latin,  and  how  the  translation  was  finally  entered  on 
the  report  book.  1  told  them  the  translators  or  some  one  else  gave 
the  words  a  most  malicious  turn,  and  I  asked  that  the  sentence  be 
taken  down  as  it  was  written  on  the  door,  but  the  Governor  would 
make  no  change.  He  said  I  acted  wrong  in  writing  anything,  and 
would  give  me  forty-eight  hours  on  bread  and    water. 

When  the  forty-eight  hours  were  up,  I  put  my  name  down  to  see 
the  Director,  and  when  he  came,  I  applied  to  him  to  change  the  re- 
cord of  that  report  against  me.  My  words  were  quite  innocent — 
"  the  red  blood  of  Ireland  flows  in  England " — but  when  they 
changed  that  into  "the  red  blood  of  Ireland  will  rise  in  England," 
they  must  have  a  very  great  desire  to  misrepresent  me.  I  asked 
why  the  original  words  were  not  copied,  but  all  the  satisfaction  I 
got  was  to  be  told  that  I  had  no  right  to  write  them  at  all. 

I  have  no  doubt  but  that  this  terrible  prophecy  of  the  red  blood 
of  Ireland  rising  in  England  was  sent  before  a  Cabinet  Council,  and 
that  it  did  its  business  in  supporting  some  argument  in  favor  of  co- 
ercive measures  to  crush  the  "  rebels  "  in  Ireland  and  England. 

I  was  coming  from  chapel  one  morning,  and,  being  left  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  passage  till  all  the  other  men  would  pass  to  their  several 
wards,  I  saw  a  man  pass  me  whom  I  was  sure  I  knew.  I  was  taken 
to  my  exercise  ground,  where  I  kept  thinking  and  thinking  who 
tb«t  man  could  be.     It  was  a  puzzle  to  me  for  a  few  days,  when, 


236  0] *  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

looking  at  him  in  chapel  again,  I  recognized  him  as  Edmond  Power. 
I  set  my  wits  to  wbrk  to  communicate  with  him,  and,  having  suc- 
ceeded, I  learned  that  a  number  were  lately  convicted  and  were  now 
fellow-boarders  of  mine — John  Devoy,  St.  Clair,  John  Warren,  John 
M'Cafterty,  Tom  Bourke,  Augustine  Costello,  Edward  Duffy,  Ste- 
phen Joseph  Meany,  Patrick  Walsh,  Denis  Cashman,  etc.  I  kept 
my  eyes  open,  and  bye-and-bye  I  got  into  communication  with  Cos- 
tello, who  told  me  his  adventure  of  how  he  and  others  came  in  a 
small  craft  from  America  to  Ireland.  This  craft  was  three  weeks 
on  the  coast  of  Ireland.  She  first  made  Sligo  Bay,  and,  not  being 
met  there  to  her  satisfaction,  she  came  around  to  Dungarvan,  landed 
her  men,  and  made  her  way  back  to  America  in  safety.  It  was  new 
news  for  me  to  hear,  and  I  made  the  most  out  of  Costello  till  the 
fates  put  us  out  of  each  other's  reach. 

Power  prayed  at  chapel  three  or  four  stools  away  from  me,  but 
there  was  soon  a  cordon  of  communication  established  between  us 
and  bulletins  passed  regularly.  I  got  a  parcel  one  morning  about 
the  size  of  a  marble.  As  prayers  were  ended,  and  I  was  leaving  my 
seat  Power's  eyes  and  mine  met,  and  I  saw  him  put  his  finger  into 
his  mouth ;  this  I  took  to  mean  that  I  was  to  keep  the  message  in 
my  mouth,  so  that  if  I  was  suddenly  seized  upon  I  could  swallow  it. 
I  knew  there  was  danger  somewhere  around,  and,  as  I  got  into  the 
exercise  yard,  I  made  a  signal  to  go  to  the  water-closet.  When 
there  I  opened  my  parcel,  which  contained  a  bit  of  lead-pencil  and 
a  note,  in  which  I  was  informed  that  in  consequence  of  some  dis- 
covery there  was  the  closest  search  going  on,  that  he  (Power)  was 
stripped  three  times  the  preceding  day,  and  that  I  was  to  keep  the 
bit  of  pencil  safe  for  him.  I  destroyed  the  note  after  reading  it, 
and  I  secured  the  pencil  in  the  collar  of  my  shirt,  near  to  where  it 
buttoned,  so  that,  if  taken  by  surprise,  I  would,  when  unbuttoning, 
have  the  best  chance  of  being  able,  unnoticed,  to  pass  the  little  par- 
cel into  my  mouth. 

I  was  not  allowed  much  time  for  reflections,  for  immediately  two 
officers  appeared  on  the  ground.  "  Rossa,  come  on  this  way."  The 
way  led  into  the  tower,  and  there  they  ordered  me  to  strip.  "  Well, 
well,  this  is  the  newest  thing  yet — stripping  in  such  a  place  as  this; 
what  in  the  world  is  up  now,  that  you  could  not  take  me  to  my  cell 
and  strip  me  there  ?"  And  as  I  was  talking  I  commenced  stripping 
with  a  hearty  good  will,  so  as  to  keep  them  engaged  and  make  them 
less  watchful.  I  had  the  jacket,  trowsers,  and  waistcoat  given  to 
them  in  less  than  a  minute,  and  as  I  was  unbuttoning  my  shirt-col- 
lar the  bit  of  pencil  passed,  as  the  jugglers  say,  "  by  a  slight  turn 
of  the  wrist,"  from  its  hiding-place  into  my  mouth.  It  would  not 
do  to  keep  it  there,  for  the  mouth  was  to  be  examined  too.  I  had 
to  swallow  it.  The  first  effort  failed,  and  I  found  I  had  to  give  it 
time  to  moisten  before  it  would  go  down.  The  searchers  found 
nothing,  or  noticed  nothing,  and  I  this  time  escaped  my  merited 
share  of  bread  and  water. 


O*  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life*  237 

The  chief  medical  officer  of  the  establishment  was  a  Dr.  Gover, 
and  I  thought  I  would  have  a  trial  of  him  on  the  question  of  the 
starvation  of  an  Irish  political  prisoner  in  an  English  prison.  One 
day  that  he  came  around  on  his  examination  tour  I  represented  to 
him  that  I  was  not  supplied  with  a  sufficiency  of  coarse  food,  a  thing 
which  I  thought  no  civilized  nation  refused  to  its  political  prisoner. 
After  some  conversation  on  my  punishments,  and  on  the  weight  I 
lost  on  account  of  them,  he  decided  he  would  have  me  weighed, 
and  if  I  was  reducing  in  weight  he  would  consider  my  application. 
Now,  you  must  knoAV  it  was  next  to  impossible  I  could  reduce  in 
weight  since  I  came  to  Millbank,  for  I  was  so  reduced  coming  there, 
from  the  cold  and  hunger  I  experienced  in  Portland,  that  I  could 
not  go  down  much  further. 

I  was  a  mere  skeleton  of  skin  and  bone.  The  first  day  Dr.  Gover 
weighed  me  I  turned  the  scale  at  145  pounds  and  three-quarters ; 
the  next  time  it  was  145,  and  the  third  time  146.  Dr.  Gover  said 
he  would  be  very  happy  to  give  me  more  food,  but,  as  this  was 
about  my  weight  coming  to  Millbank,  I  had  reduced  nothing  under 
his  charge,  and,  as  there  was  so  much  particularity  about  my  treat- 
ment, he  should  allow  the  discipline  to  take  its  course ;  but  some 
months  after,  I  think,  he  put  a  veto  on  my  getting  further  punish- 
ment, which  was  in  a  short  time  again  re-vetoed  by  Captain  Gam* 
bier,  my  genial  director. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


WIPE'S  VISIT — LIES  ABOUT  LETTERS — KNOX  AND  POLLOCK — A  CAS- 
TLEBAR  MAN  STEALING  INK  FOR  ME STEALING  PAPER A  NAR- 
ROW    ESCAPE MY     LOVE     LETTER     AND     THE     SHAM     INQUIRY 

LYING    AGAIN LORD     DEVON'S     COMMISSION WRITING     AMONGST 

FLEAS PUNISHED    FOR    HAVING    MY    TASK    WORK     DONE    BEFORE 

TIME REFUSE  TO  GO  TO  PUNISHMENT   CELL A  TERRIBLE    CHOK- 
ING  AND    DRAGGING 1    BARRICADE    MY    DOOR — IT    IS    BROKEN    IN 

FOUR     MONTHS'    CELLS MEETING    JOHN    DEVOY TAKEN    ILL 

DR.    POCKLINGTON MY     BODY     COVERED    WITH     BOILS EFFECTS 

OF     LOW     DIET     AND      CONFINEMENT MEDITATED     MUTINY     AND 

OUTBREAK THE     DEVIL    VISITS     ME REFLECTIONS    ON    "  BURKE 

AND   FROUDE  " MY  BOOKS    TAKEN  AWAY  AND    RETURNED  AGAIN 

1   THREATEN    TO    DESTROY    CELL  AND    MUFFLE    MY    GASLIGHT 

VOLUNTEERING   TO    WESTERN    AUSTRALIA MANCHESTER    RESCUE 

SOLDIERS    GUARDING    US OUT     OF    "  PUNISHMENT "    AND    IN    IT 

SOON    AGAIN MEETING    JAMES    XAVIER    O'BRIEN PATRICK    LEN- 

NON STRIPPED      NAKED  EVERY    DAY BREAKING    SPY-HOLE  AND 

DOOR HANDCUFFS,    BLOODY    WRISTS,    AND    DARK    CELLS THROT- 
TLING   AND     THREATENING EATING    "  ON    ALL     FOURS  " BREAK 

MY    SPOON  AND  WOODEN    DISH — STUFF  THE  KEY-HOLE  AND    HAVE 
A   LITTLE    FUN,    AND    GET   MORE    BREAD    AND    WATER   FOR   IT. 

I  was  taken  out  of  my  cell  one  day,  and  led  through  corridors  I 
never  traveled  before.  Something  new  must  be  up  now,  thought  I, 
and  true  for  me,  because  as  I  was  ushered  into  a  place  that  resem- 
bled a  menagerie  for  wild  beasts,  a  door  opened,  and  my  wife  stood 
before  me.  But  we  had  to  keep  a  respectful  distance  from  each  oth- 
er, as  two  strong  wire  screens  separated  us.  She  was  in  one  com- 
partment with  big  Power  accompanying  her ;  I  was  in  the  other 
with  my  guardian,  and  we  had  twenty  minutes  to  talk  across  the  di- 
viding space  with  these  two  listening,  and  the  head  warder  inter- 
rupting the  conversation  whenever  I  touched  upon  the  treatment  I 
was  receiving. 

My  wife  was  going  to  America  to  earn  a  livelihood  there;  she 
wrote  to  the  Governor  of  the  prison,  asking  him  to  tell  me  she  was 
coming  to  see  me  before  she  sailed,  but  he  never  told  me  a  word  of 
it;  she  took  me  completely  by  surprise,  and  this  was  what  the  au- 
thorities desired,  so  that  I  could  have  no  story  prepared  for  her. 
She  told  me  she   wrote  a  letter  to   Portland  six  months  before,  in- 


0' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  239 

forming  me  of  her  intention  to  emigrate.  I  never  heard  of  such  a 
letter,  and  Power  said  it  never  came  to  the  prison,  but  six  months 
afterwards  I  learned  they  were  telling  me  lies  about  it.  I  was  ask- 
ing the  Deputy-Governor  some  questions  about  the  suppression  of 
my  letters  ;  he  referred  to  this  one  that  came  with  me  from  Port- 
land, and  after  several  applications  to  the  Director  he  allowed  me 
to  have  a  part  of  it  to  read  and  be  given  back  again.  The  bare 
twenty  minutes  was  allowed  for  my  wife's  visit.  There  was  no 
chance  of  having  a  shake  hands  at  parting.  Her  last  words  were — 
to  have  hope,  and  not  to  let  my  spirits  sink.  It  puzzled  me  to  know 
why  she  would  speak  this  way,  particularly  as  she  spoke  the  words 
with  a  firmness  that  indicated  there  was  some  reason  to  have  a  hope. 
She  now  tells  me  she  was  at  the  time  fully  confident  of  being  able 
to  succeed  in  having  me  stolen  out  of  prison.  She  had  borrowed  a 
hundred  pounds  to  effect  my  release ;  she  had  the  money  with  her. 
She  had  impressions  on  wax  of  the  keys  that  opened  several  of  the 
doors  which  stood  between  me  and  the  world,  but  in  consequence 
of  the  many  removals  of  me  from  one  cell  to  another,  the  men  who 
were  assisting  could  not  get  command  of  all  that  was  necessary. 
She  had  to  give  up  the  endeavor ;  paid  back  the  money,  and  went 
to  America. 

She  told  me  there  was  to  be  a  Commission  of  Inquiry  concerning 
our  treatment,  but  she  was  immediately  ordered  to  give  me  no  in- 
formation on  that  subject.  The  public  might  want  to  have  a  little 
light  thrown  on  the  matter,  but  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  keep 
me  in  the  dark,  so  that  I  would  not  be  prepared  for  what  was  com- 
ing. Everything  was  to  come  on  me  by  surprise,  so  as  to  disconcert 
me,  and  render  me  unable  to  defeat  "  the  ends  of  justice." 

And  didn't  this  Commission  of  Knox  and  Pollock  take  me  by 
surprise  ? — and  wasn't  I  disconcerted  ?  Yes,  truly  ;  and  often  have 
I  laughed  at  the  position  it  caught  me  in,  and  the  escape  I  had  from 
detection  while  committirg  the  most  heinous  crime  of  writing  on 
forbidden  paper  with  forbidden  pen  and  ink. 

One  morning  at  chapel,  while  the  priest  was  repeating  the  litany, 
and  the  prisoners  responding  aloud,  I  heard  a  voice  behind  address- 
ing a  few  words  to  me  at  every  response,  and  I  cocked  my  ears  to 
allow  as  much  as  possible  of  the  whisper  to  enter.  "  Have  mercy 
on  us,"  cried  the  congregation.  "  I'll  get  you  paper,"  cried  the  voice 
behind  me.  "Have  mercy  on  us," — "and  pen  and  ink."  "Have  mercy 
on  us," — "  our  baker  can  send  the  letter,"  and  so  on,  the  prisoners  in 
our  neighborhood  responding  louder  and  louder,  wThen  they  noticed 
we  were  communicating.  When  I  was  leaving  the  chapel,  I  took  a 
glance  at  the  man  that  was  whispering  to  me,  and  next  morning  I 
noticed  he  was  two  or  three  seats  back  of  me.  By-and-by, 
when  the  responses  were  being  given,  wrord  was  passed  to  me  to 
"  get  ready,"  and  in  the  bustle  of  rising  from  our  knees,  something 
was  passed  to  me  which  I  covered  with  my  check  pockethandker- 
. chief.     After  getting  to  my  cell,  I  opened  my  parcel;  it  consisted 


240  0  ^Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

V 

of  a  letter,  a  writing  pen,  a  sheet  of  paper  and  envelope,  and  a  piece 
of  thick  flannel  rag  saturated  with  ink.  My  first  move  was  to  put 
out  the  red  end  of  my  signal  "board  through  the  slit  in  the  wall,  to 
signify  that  I  wanted  to  go  to  the  water  closet,  and  in  my  hiding- 
place  there  I  secured  all  I  got  except  the  letter,  which  I  brought 
!>ack  to  my  cell  to  read.  The  writer  was  a  Castlebar  Irishman;  he 
had  heard  of  the  straits  I  was  in  for  writing  material,  and  he  had 
made  arrangements  with  a  fellow-prisoner  who  worked  in  the  bake- 
house to  get  a  letter  conveyed  out  for  me.  He  would  keep  me  sup- 
plied with  ink,  because  he  got  schooling,  and  when  the  ink-bottle 
was  left  with  him  to  write,  he  could  steal  the  ink  into  the  flannel 
rag. 

At  this  time  I  had  in  my  hiding-place  an  abundant  supply  of  fine 
white  paper — five  or  six  sheets  of  it,  but  this  I  stole  myself.  In 
going  to  chapel  I  was  taken  out  of  my  cell  and  made  to  stand  in  a 
corner  till  all  the  other  prisoners  had  passed.  The  warder  stood  in 
view  of  me,  but  I  stood  in  view  of  the  warder  also,  and  when  he 
turned  his  head  aside  I  turned  my  eyes  to  take  observations.  I  noticed 
on  the  shelf  a  large  book  in  which  he  kept  an  account  of  the  work. 
I  opened  it,  one-half  of  my  body  and  one  hand  in  view  of  the  offi- 
cer,  while  the  other  hand  was  preparing  to  commit  a  theft.  I  saw 
the  book  was  not  paged,  and  that  I  could  take  sheets  out  of  it  with- 
out the  loss  being  noticed.  I  was  the  last  to  go  into  the  chapel 
from  my  ward,  and  the  first  to  come  back.  My  cell  was  near  the 
corner  where  the  book  lay ;  the  officer  kept  his  eyes  on  me  till  I 
turned  the  angle ;  I  was  then  to  enter  my  cell  and  shut  the  door 
before  the  other  prisoners  would  pass ;  but  one  morning,  as  I  passed 
this  angle,  I  paid  my  respects  to  the  account-book,  and,  quick  as 
lightning,  tore  out  five  or  six  sheets. 

Having  shut  my  cell-door,  I  took  a  fit  of  coughing  in  order  to 
make  a  noise  while  I  was  tearing  the  paper  into  a  convenient  size, 
and  when  all  was  right,  I  put  out  my  signal-board  to  get  to  my 
hiding-place. 

About  a  week  after  my  wife's  visit,  I  was  in  full  blast  writing 
away  in  my  cell,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  which  was  the 
hour  I  found  myself  subject  to  the  least  observation.  My  tin  pint 
contained  a  squeeze  of  ink  out  of  the  flannel  rag ;  I  had  my  pen  in 
hand,  scrawling  for  the  dear  life  on  a  leaf  of  paper  laid  on  my  slate, 
when  tramp,  tramp,  I  heard  the  approach  of  officers.  I  stuck  my 
paper  and  writing-pen  inside  the  waist  of  my  breeches;  the  keys 
turned  in  the  locks,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  big  Power 
cr'ed,  "  Come  on,  come  on."  "Wait  now,  governor,"  said  I,  "  till  I 
■o  to  the  water-closet."  "No,  no,  you  can't;  we  are  in  a  great 
i try."  "  Well,  then,  if  you  are  in  a  hurry,  the  quickest  manner 
\  u  can  get  on  with  me  is  to  let  me  have  my  way  a  little;  so  you 
may  as  well  let  me  go  to  the  closet."  They  did  let  me,  but  they 
stood  at  the  door  of  it,  and  I  had  no  chance  of  further  concealing 
the  pen  and  paper  I  had  on  my  person.     I  was  led  into  the  Gov- 


C  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  241 

ernor's  room ;  the  warders  withdrew,  and  I  stood  at  the  bar  before 
two  gentlemen  who  sat  inside.  They  introduced  themselves  to  me 
as  Messrs.  Knox  and  Pollock,  and  informed  me  they  were  commis- 
sioned to  ask  me  some  questions  regarding  my  prison  life. 

I  questioned  them  as  to  how  they  were  appointed,  and  what 
were  the  circumstances  that  called  for  their  inquiry.  They  would 
not  tell  me;  but  I  was  not  long  under  examination  before  I  saw 
that  something  I  had  written  got  into  the  world,  and  caused  a  little 
trouble.  They  questioned  me  principally  on  Governor  Clifton  of 
Portland,  and  my  letter  "to  another  man's  wife,"  and  I  found  out 
that  Mr.  Clifton  had  gone  back  of  his  words,  and  had  been  telling 
them  lies.  I  asked,  if  this  was  to  be  a  fair  and  honest  search  after 
truth,  that  I  be  brought  face  to  face  with  Mr.  Clifton;  that  the 
Portland  prison  books  be  produced,  together  with  the  correspond- 
ence, and  I  would  convince  them  my  words  were  true  and  his  false. 

They  had  examined  Mr.  Clifton,  they  said,  but  he  was  now  out 
of  town;  they  would,  however,  see  him  again,  and  may  call  to  see 
me  in  a  week's  time,  but  I  never  saw  them  since.  I  was  for  about 
four  hours  under  their  examination,  and  as  I  saw  the  proceedings 
coming  to  a  close,  I  made  a  move  to  adjust  the  pen  and  paper  that 
were  still  inside  the  waist  of  my  breeches.  I  saw  they  were  getting 
alarmed  when  they  noticed  me  fumbling  with  my  hands. 

I  really  believe,  from  their  frightened  looks,  that  they  appre- 
hended I  had  some  concealed  weapon  with  which  I  was  about  to 
assault  them,  and  to  allay  their  fears  I  told  the  truth ;  that  I  was 
caught  writing,  and  got  no  time  to  properly  conceal  my  pen,  which 
was  distracting  my  attention  all  the  time  I  was  talking  to  them. 
They  said  I  may  regard  anything  that  may  pass  between  them  and 
me,  as  if  it  passed  between  the  priest  and  myself  at  confession ; 
they  would  not  tell  on  me ;  but  I  did  not  much  mind  at  the  time 
whether  they  wrould  or  not,  for  I  was  certain  that  the  ink  I  left  in 
the  pint  would  be  discovered  in  the  cell  by  some  warder,  and  that  I 
was  in  for  the  punishment  anyway.  But  for  a  wonder,  it  escaped 
observation,  and  I  escaped  that  day  with  all  my  munitions  of  war. 

These  gentlemen,  Knox  and  Pollock,  were  extremely  polite  to 
me ;  you'd  think  butter  would  not  melt  in  their  mouth,  so  sweet 
were  they.  I  thought  I  gave  them  every  satisfaction  We  parted 
apparently  on  the  best  of  terms,  and  yet  in  their  report  they,  in  a 
peculiarly  English  fashion,  cut  my  throat  as  if  they  had  never  given 
me  a  kind  word. 

Here  are  some  extracts  from  it : 

"  We  now  come  to  the  main  grievance — namely,  that  the  Gover- 
nor had  charged  treason-felony  convict  J.  O'D.  Rossa  with  writing  a 
love-letter  to  the  wife  of  another  convict,  Michael  Moore.  As  a  fact 
quite  unconnected  with  this  occurrence,  the  convict,  Michael  Moore, 
asked  for  permission  to  write  a  letter  to  his  wife.  The  Governor, 
wishing  to  know  whether  Moore  had  any  participation  with  Rossa's 
letter,  replied,   '  This  is  very  strange,  only  a  day  or  two  ago  Mossa 


242  O' } Donovan  Rosso? 8  Prison  Life. 

tried  to  pass  out  a  letter  to  your  wife?  He  said  nothing  to  him  about 
love-letters  or  any  such  thing ;  Moore  flew  into  a  passion,  and  Mr. 
Clifton  was  convinced  from  his  manner  that  he  had  nothing  to  do 
with  Rossa's  letter,  and  so  the  thing  passed  oft.  The  book  and 
letter  were  forwarded  to  the  Directors  in  London.  A  few  days 
afterwards,  when  the  Governor  saw  Rossa  in  his  office,  Rossa  charged 
him  in  the  most  insolent  terms  with  having  accused  him  of  writing  a 
love-letter  to  Mrs.  Moore.  Mr.  Clifton  replied  that  he  had  told 
Moore  he  had  written  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Moore,  but  said  nothing  about 
a  love-letter,  adding  words  to  the  effect  that  he  did  not  mind  telling 
him  (Rossa)  his  own  opinion,  that  when  a  man  writes  a  letter  to 
another  man's  wife,  begins  with  the  words  '  my  love,'  fills  it  with 
expressions  of  strong  devotion,  signs  it  with  his  name,  and  forwards 
it  in  a  surreptitious  way,  the  facts  had  an  awkward  look. 

"  Mr.  Clifton  expressly  added,  in  speaking  to  Rossa,  '  A  reason 
the  more  which  makes  me  think  this  was  never  intended  for  your 
wife  is,  that  I  have  far  too  high  an  opinion  of  Mrs.  O'Donovan  Rossa 
to  think  for  a  moment  she  would  aid  you  in  infringing  the  prison 
rules.' " 

That  passage  from  Knox  and  Pollock's  report,  referred  to  the 
funny  charge  made  against  me  of  writing  a  love-letter  to  another 
man's  wife.  They,  on  examination  of  the  papers,  could  not  but 
have  seen  that  it  was  the  silliest  charge  ever  made.  Yet,  these  sham 
inquirers  having  only  the  one  object  of  whitewashing  the  Govern 
ment,  will  not  say  a  word  in  favor  of  the  truth.  They  say,  "  Mrs. 
CD.  will  scarcely  stand  for  Mrs.  0' Donovan  Rossa,  and  the  further 
explanation  that  Mrs.  Moore  loas  Moore's  mother,  not  his  wife, 
sounds  unsatisfactory"  while  they  had  the  book  record  before  them, 
showing  that  Moore's  wife's  name  was  Kate,  and  his  mother's 
Mary. 

"  On  June  the  3d  we  visited  Millbank  Prison,  and  as  our  sole  ob- 
ject there  was  to  converse  with  treason-felony  convict  J.  O'D.  Rossa, 
we  need  not  dwell  at  any  length  upon  the  arrangements  of  the 
prison. 

"  Rossa  himself  admitted  that  he  had  nothing  particular  to  com- 
plain of,  except  that  he  had  on  various  occasions  been  reported  for 
punishment  unjustly,  as  he  conceived.  He  complained  that  every- 
one was  unjust  to  him  ;  it  is  but  fair  to  add  that  everyone  complained 
of  him  in  turn.  He  had  the  most  ingenious  contrivance  for  conceal- 
ing fragments  of  paper,  for  hanging  ink-bottles  out  of  his  cell  win- 
dow by  wires,  and  obviously  managed  by  hook  or  by  crook  to  main- 
tain tolerably  active  relations  with  the  external  world.  He  has 
driven  matters  at  last  to  this  point  that  he  has  been  remitted  as  a 
thoroughly  unmanageable  subject  from  Portland  to  Millbank,  and 
at  Millbank  the  authorities  are  obliged  to  keep  him,  even  at  hours  of 
exercise,  apart  from  his  fellows.  A  short  time  since,  he  concocted  a 
letter,  stuffed  full  of  the  most  absurd  accusations  against  every- 
body, and  contrived,  no  one  knows  how,  to  convey  it  to  another  con- 


O' Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life,  243 

vict  who  was  about  to  be  removed.  The  letter  was  to  be  dropped 
on  the  railway,  and  was  addressed  to  the  editors  of  any  one  of  three 
or  four  papers.  It  contained  the  story  of  his  wrongs,  and  was  to 
set  the  country  in  a  blaze.  We  could  not  but  regret,  as  we  saw  this 
fine  active  young  man  before  us  in  the  prime  of  manhood,  and  in 
strong,  vigorous  health,  that  such  energies  of  mind  and  body  had 
been  misapplied,  and  that  the  end  of  all  was  a  convict's  cell,  and  a 
duel  between  himself  and  the  authorities,  whether  they  could  retain 
him  in  prison,  or  he  could  set  them  at  defiance  and  effect  his  escape. 
His  letter  contained  the  usual  farrago  of  falsehood  and  exaggera- 
tion. He  said  in  it  that  he  had  been  denied  the  privilege  of  writing 
to  his  poor  mother  in  America ;  it  turned  out  that  he  had  never  asked 
permission  to  do  so  at  all.  He  complained  to  us  that  he  had  been 
reported  for  abstracting  at  the  tailor's  work  a  portion  of  cloth 
and  concealing  it  beneath  his  jacket ;  it  turned  out  that  he  had  done 
so,  but  he  said  he  had  not  intended  to  hide  it ;  he  had  just  put  it  out 
of  the  way  for  temporary  purposes.  The  convict  Rossa  is  a  danger- 
ous man  and  must  remain  the  object  of  increasing  anxiety  and  vigi- 
lance to  the  authorities.  The  senior  warder  at  Millbank,  a  man  of 
no  mean  experience  in  convict  life,  said  that  in  the  whole  course  of 
his  career  he  had  never  met  with  the  equal  of  this  most  unfortunate 
man,  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa.  He  has  no  ill-usage  to  complain 
of;  no  severity  but  of  his  own  making.  He  must  mend  his  ways  or 
abide  his  fate." 

We  have  the  honor  to  be  your  obedient  servants, 

"  Alexander  A.  Knox, 
"  George  D.  Pollock." 

The  falsehood  and  misrepresentation  in  the  foregoing  are  wonder- 
ful. I  told  them  I  had  no  complaints — that  I  scorned  to  make  com- 
plaints about  anything  I  was  made  to  endure,  but  would  make  every 
endeavor  to  let  the  public  know  the  truth,  and  they  turn  this  into — ■ 
"  Rossa  himself  admitted  that  he  had  nothing  particular  to  complain 
of." 

"  A  short  time  back  he  concocted  a  letter  stuffed  full  of  the  most 
absurd  and  unfounded  accusations  against  everybody,  and  contrived, 
no  one  knows  how,  to  convey  it  to  another  convict  who  was  about 
to  be  removed.     The  letter  was  to  be  dropped  on  a  railway." 

Everything  in  that  letter  was  as  true  as  that  Knox  and  Pollock 
were  false  ;  and  look  at  the  justice  of  these  two  English  "  gentle* 
men  "  making  such  a  report  to  the  public,  while  they  never  a-ked 
me  a  question  as  to  whether  the  accusation  in  the  letter  was  true  or 
false.  They  took  the  words  of  my  jailers,  or  took  their  own  words, 
to  suit  their  own  purposes. 

"  He  said  in  it  that  he  had  been  denied  the  privilege  of  writing 
to  his  poor  mother  in  America ;  it  turned  out  that  he  never  had 
asked  to  do  so  at  all."  Good  Heavens  !  how  these  people  can  lie. 
I  had  asked  this  permission  as  often  as  there  are  fingers  and  toes  on 
me.     I  had  even  begged  a  small  scrap  of  paper  from  Governor  Clif- 


244  O'*  Donovan  Hossa?s  Prison  Life. 

ton,  in  which  I  would  write  a  few  words  to  my  mother,  and  enclose 
it  in  a  letter  I  was  writing  to  my  wife,  and  he  would  not  give  it  to 
me. 

They  say  I  told  them  I  had  put  the  tailor's  cloth  away 
"  for  temporary  purposes,"  when  what  I  told  them  was,  that  I  put  it 
around  my  waist  when  shivering  with  the  cold.  But  they  would 
not  admit  in  their  report  that  I  said  anything  about  feeling  cold,  for 
some  of  our  men  died  from  the  effects  of  it,  and  that  was  one  of  the 
things  Knox  and  Pollock  had  to  whitewash. 

There  is  no  use  in  wasting  any  more  of  my  time  with  these 
worthies ;  I  believe  them  to  be  willful  liars,  even  though  they  are 
English  Commissioners  and  big  English  "  gentlemen." 

After  this  Commission  was  over  the  authorities  commenced  "  to 
put  the  screws  on  me"  in  earnest.  Every  day  and  night  I  was 
worried  in  one  way  or  another.  The  cell  in  which  they  lodged  me 
at  night  was  full  of  fleas,  though  it  is  but  justice  to  say  that  my 
prison  life  in  England  was  otherwise  pretty  free  from  attacks  of  this 
kind  of  minor  vermin.  In  this  particular  cell  I  got  out  of  bed  one 
June  morning  about  three  o'clock.  I  could  not  sleep,  and  having 
my  writing  materials  with  me,  I  planted  myself  with  my  back  to  the 
door,  in  a  position  that  the  watchman  could  not  see  me.  It  was  not 
iong  till  he  appeared,  and  cried  out  through  the  slit : 

"  Where  are  you  ?" 

"  Here,"  said  I,  standing  up,  holding  a  prayer-book  in  my  hand, 
as  if  I  was  reading  it. 

"  Go  to  bed." 

"  I  prefer  sitting  up." 

"  But  you  can't  sit  up  ;  this  is  Sunday  morning  and  you  can't  be 
out  of  bed  before  six  o'clock." 

"  Well,  I  know  that,  but  I  cannot  sleep  with  the  fleas." 

"  I  do  not  care  about  the  fleas ;  you  must  go  to  bed  or  be  re- 
ported." 

"Very  well,  then,  I'll  go  to  bed." 

And  to  bed  I  went,  taking  my  writing  material  with  me,  and 
making  every  exertion  I  could  to  finish  my  letter.  I  wrote  under 
the  blanket,  and  had  the  clothes  so  arranged  that  if  he  stole  a  march 
on  me  and  looked  in  through  the  slit  he  could  but  see,  before  I  saw 
him,  that  I  was  only  hunting  the  fleas. 

But  now  came  the  turning  point  of  my  life,  the  winter  of  my  dis- 
content, the  gross  injustice  that  made  my  whole  soul  rise  in  arms 
against  them,  and  pitch  their  discipline  and  themselves  to  the  devil. 
They  punished  me  for  working  too  fast ;  they  gave  me  forty-eight 
houis  on  bread  and  water,  because  I  had  my  task-work  finished  be- 
fore the  appointed  time.  I  got  twenty  ounces  of  coir  to  pick  each 
day.  The  officer  gave  it  to  me  to  pick  at  four  o'clock  in  the  eve- 
ning, and  took  it  away  from  me  at  the  same  hour  next  day.  In 
giving  it  to  me  a  cord  was  tied  abut  it,  and  in  giving  it  out  I  bound 
it  in  the  same  cord,  so  that  he  could  place  it  tidily  on  the  scales  to 


0  ^  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  245 

be  weighed.  I  had  my  bundle  made  up  at  fifty  minutes  past  thr^e, 
and,  feeling  quite  at  ease  with  myselfand  every  one  else,  I  stretched 
on  my  bare  bed  board  with  a  book  in  my  hand,  but  I  was  immedi- 
ately startled  by  the  voice  of  big  Power,  roaring  out : 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?" 

"  Reading." 

"  Reading  !  Why  arn't  you  at  work  ?" 

"  Oh,  Governor,"  said  I  good-humoredly,  and  thinking  I  had 
him  on  the  hip  this  time,  "my  work  is  done." 

He  opened  the  door  and  called  Percival,  the  ward  officer,  and 
brought  him  to  account  for  allowing  me  to  be  idle.  "No  man  should 
be  idle  in  that  prison.  I  should  keep  my  work  on  hands  till  the  regu- 
lar hour,  or,  if  I  had  it  done  before  that  hour  Ishouid  ask  for  more," 
and  he  wound  up  his  declamation  in  favor  of  law  and  order  by  order- 
ing me  to  "put  out  my  broom." 

Next  day  I  was  taken  before  the  Governor  and  charged  whh 
idleness.  Power  told  his  story  and  I  told  mine.  The  judge  was  a 
man  with  whom  I  had  very  little  influence ;  he  said  it  was  a  serious 
breach  of  discipline,  and  sentenced  me  to  the  darkened  cell  for  two 
days.  I  asked  him  to  appeal  the  case  to  the  Director,  but  he  would 
not  do  any  such  thing. 

"Then  said  I,  'Til  not  go  to  the  dark  cell,  nor  will  I  do  anything 
else  in  obedience  to  your  rules  and  regulations  while  you  treat  me 
so  outrageously." 

"  Take  him  off,"  and  off  I  was  taken.  As  I  was  passing  the  tower 
that  led  to  the  punishment  ward  the  officer  cried  "  To  your  left." 

"  No,"  said  I,  emphatically,  for  I  was  in  a  rage,  "  I'll  go  right 
straight  to  my  own  cell." 

They  let  me  walk  into  my  ordinary  cell,  shut  the  door,  and  came 
back  by-and-bye  with  big  Power  and  four  or  five  others.  I  required 
them  to  use  no  more  force  than  to  lay  hands  on  me ;  that  done  I 
would  walk  quietly  with  them,  but  I  would  not  yield  obedience 
to  a  simple  order.  The  six  or  seven  of  them  came  into  the  celL 
Power  ordered  me  out.  I  said  "  No,"  and  the  instant  the  words 
escaped  my  lips,  Cooper  and  Brown  sprung  at  me  and  seized  me  by 
the  throat.  They  clutched  me  so  tight  that  I  could  not  even  relieve 
myself  by  a  screech.  I  was  thrown  down  and  dragged  into  the 
lobby.  The  hands  were  released  from  my  throat,  and  Beresford, 
seeing  that  this  gave  him  an  open  for  a  blow  at  my  head,  raised  his 
club  to  strike,  but  Power  caught  him  by  the  arm  saying,  "  Don't 
strike  him  yet."  They  turned  me,  face  foremost  to  the  ground,  then 
caught  my  hands  and  legs  and  dragged  me  on.  Did'tmy  arm  joints 
catch  it  ?  By  Jove,  I  felt  as  if  they  were  twisted  out  of  me.  When 
I  was  laid  opposite  the  door  of  the  dark  cell,  I  was  ordered  to  strip, 
and  I  refused.  The  whole  of  them  went  at  me,  and  as  I  resisted 
they  had  a  little  trouble.  A  civilian,  who  was  working  as  a  plumber 
in  the  ward,  came  to  their  assistance ;  at  last  the  clothes  were  torn 
off,  and  I  lay  on  the  flags  naked.     Their  work  was  done  and  I 


246  O'  Donovan  Rosso? §  Prison  Life. 

crawled  into  my  quarters,  they  throwing  the  tattered  garments  in 
after  me.  The  forty-eight  hours  passed  and  when  I  returned  to  my 
cell  I  was  ordered  to  "  put  out  my  broom  again."  "  Put  it  out 
yourself  if  you  want  it,"  said  I,  and  out  they  put  it.  Next  day 
I  was  asked  to  go  before  the  Governor,  and  I  refused  to  go.  Power 
came,  but  he  could  not  come  into  my  cell,  as  1  had  placed  my  bucket 
in  a  corner  between  the  door  and  the  wall.  "  I'll  soon  make  you 
come,"  said  he  walking  away,  and  in  a  minute  I  heard  a  tramp  as  if 
a  regiment  was  coming.  I  had  a  massive  earthenware  chamber 
vessel,  and  as  I  heard  them  coming,  I  smashed  it  on  the  flags,  and 
put  my  towel  around  a  few  large  pieces  of  it.  The  bucket  would 
allow  the  door  to  open  just  as  wide  as  would  admit  a  man's  head, 
and,  as  sure  as  I  write,  if  I  could  get  a  chance  at  the  head  of  that 
Brown  or  Cooper,  who  lacerated  my  throat  a  few  days  before,  I 
would  give  either  or  both  of  them  the  benefit  of  my  loaded  towel. 
But  neither  Brown  nor  Cooper  was  brought  this  time,  and  I  would 
not  strike  anyone  else.  Chief  Warden  Handy  would  parley  with 
me,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  I  would  not  take  away  the  bucket.  He 
would  put  his  head  in,  but  I  would  warn  him  not  to  press  further. 
At  last  he  got  enraged,  and  cried  out — 

"  Knock  him  down  if  he  attempts  to  strike  anyone." 

"  Now,"  said  I,  "  You  keep  away,  too,  and  if  you  want  to  get  a 
chance  of  knocking  me  down,  bring  Brown  or  Cooper  up  here." 

Some  warders  that  were  brought  from  other  wards  would  take  a 
peep  at  the  wild  animal  inside  through  the  spy-hole,  and  catching 
hold  of  my  pint  of  water  I  said — 

"  Now,  if  any  one  else  stares  at  me  through  that  slit,  I'll  dash 
this  water  in  his  face.  An  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle,  and  I 
am  not  going  to  have  mine  invaded  with  impunity." 

Captain  Wallack,  the  Deputy-Governor,  came,  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. As  a  last  resource,  they  sent  for  the  priest,  and,  as  I  would 
not  let  him  in  except  on  condition  of  exacting  a  promise  from  all 
the  others  that  none  of  them  would  enter  until  he  had  gone  out 
again,  and  I  had  perfected  my  barricades,  he  went  away,  and  they 
sent  for  the  blacksmith  of  the  establishment,  who  came  with  a  sledge 
and  crowbar.  He  battered  away  at  the  door  and  broke  it  into 
smithereens,  and,  as  he  had  torn  it  on°  its  hinges,  I  cried  out : 

"  Hold  on  now,  Governor!  that  will  do;  I  think  I  may  as  well 
make  an  honorable  surrender,"  and,  taking  the  bucket  away,  I  let 
them  come  in.  A  few  of  them  caught  me  by  the  collar  and  gave  a 
little  chucking,  but  it  was  not  much,  as  the  Deputy-Governor  was 
present.  In  a  few  minutes  I  stood  before  my  judge,  and  was  charged 
with  resisting  and  assaulting  six  officers  in  the  discharge  of  their 
duty,  three  days  before.  The  Governor  said  he  would  refer  it  to 
the  Director,  as  it  was  so  serious  a  charge.  I  was  brought  back 
and  lodged  in  the  cell  next  to  the  broken  one ;  but  they  took  away 
the  bucket  that  was  in  it,  lest  I  should  raise  another  barricade.  My 
broom  was  out  for  three  or  four  davs,  till  the  Director  came,  and  as 


O^  Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life.  247 

I  was  led  into  the  place  where  we  stand  till  we  are  called  to  go  be- 
fore him  I  saw  one  man  there  with  his  face  turned  to  the  wall.  I 
had  to  pass  him  and  stand  three  yards  below,  with  my  face  turned 
to  the  wall  too ;  but,  instead  of  passing  him  by,  I  grasped  him  by 
the  hand  and  cried,  " Hallo,  Devoy,  is  that  you — how  are  you?" 
"Oh,  pretty  well;  how  are  you?"  The  officer  interfered,  and  as  I 
was  taking  my  position  I  said,  "  This  is  the  place  to  civilize  a  fel- 
low, isn't  it  ?"  "  Never  mind,  we'll  have  a  day  for  this  yet."  "  Why, 
I  think  you  did  not  know  me  at  first."  "  Know  you,"  said  he, 
laughing ;  "  why,  I  don't  know  who  you  are  yet."  "  Not  know 
Rossa?"  "Great  God!  are  you  Rossa?"  and  by  this  time  the 
officer  was  dragging  me  down  to  another  ward  to  separate  us. 

Here  was  John  Devoy,  who  knew  me  for  years,  who  parted  from 
me  two  years  before,  not  recognizing  me  now.  I  thought  he  would 
know  me  boiled  in  porridge,  but  I  suppose  I  was  this  time  consider- 
ably "boiled  down." 

My  turn  came  to  go  before  the  Director,  and  when  at  the  bar  of 
justice  the  indictment  was  read  against  me — "I  had  resisted  the 
officers  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty."  "  I  assaulted  them."  "  I 
refused  to  be  stripped."  "I  refused  to  do  anything."  "What  had 
I  to  say  to  the  charge  ?" 

"  Governor,"  said  I,  "  will  you  please  ask  those  officers  if  either 
of  them  can  show  you  any  of  the  signs  of  my  assault  ?"  Neither  of 
them  could,  but  all  said  I  was  extremely  violent,  and  would  assault 
violently  were  I  not  restrained. 

"  Now,  Governor,"  added  I,  pointing  to  my  neck,  which  was 
covered  with  scabs,  as  they  had  torn  the  flesh  off  of  it  in  the  chok- 
ing they  gave  me  four  days  before,  "  look  at  this  and  you  can  see 
marks  of  assault." 

"  Oh,"  replied  he,  "  that  is  what  you  have  to  expect  here  when 
you  resist  the  officers  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty." 

Being  asked  again  what  I  had  to  say  to  the  charge,  I  said  I'd 
give  my  reply  in  writing,  and  writing  materials  for  such  a  purpose 
were  out  of  the  question. 

Gambier  spoke  of  my  increasing  bad  conduct,  and  I  spoke  of 
his  increasing  persecution,  in  punishing  me  for  idleness  when  I  had 
performed  all  the  task  work  assigned  to  me.  Then  they  harped 
again  upon  the  string  that  was  tying  my  bundle  of  coir;  big  Power 
growling  out,  "  No,  sir,  he  didn't  pick  that  string." 

"  Ah,  trash,"  said  I,  "  don't  be  going  on  with  such  nonsense. 
You  all  seem  to  be  in  a  great  fix  to  get  excuses  for  starving  me, 
but  I'll  relieve  you  of  that  difficulty  in  future,  for  it  will  be  a  long 
time  again  before  I  pick  a  string,  or  do  a  stroke  of  work  for  you." 
"I'll  see  that  you  will,"  said  Gambier,  as  he  ordered  to  have  me 
taken  away.  I  was  conducted  to  a  punishment  cell,  and  the  Deputy- 
Governor  followed  and  informed  me  of  my  punishment.  It  was  four 
months  solitary  confinement  in  a  darkened  cell,  on  penal  class  dietr 
with  the  first  twelve  days  on  bread  and  water,  together  with  which 


24:8  C  Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life. 

I  was  obliged  to  pick  oakum,  but  for  these  four  months  I  never 
picked  a  thread  of  it.  The  bundle  was  put  in  every  morning,  and 
it  remained  untouched  till  evening,  when  it  was  put  outside  my  cell 
door,  where  it  remained  till  the  next  day  dawned,  to  get  another 
day's  lodging  inside,  and  so  on  till  the  end  of  my  four  long  months. 

No  "  kitchen  "  with  your  food,  no  milk,  no  meat,  no  tea,  no  coffee ; 
you  were  very  fortunate  if  you  got  enough  of  salt  to  make  "  dip" 
for  your  "  pratees"  and  porridge. 

The  first  twelve  days  on  bread  and  water  brought  me  two  very 
severe  attacks  of  something  like  cholera.  The  first  of  them  seized 
me  in  the  middle  of  the  night ;  the  watchman  hearing  me  groaning 
and  vomiting  asked  if  he  would  call  the  doctor.  "  You  need  not 
mind,"  said  I,  "your  doctors  know  very  well  that  this  treatment  is 
meant  to  break  down  my  health,  and  I  am  not  going  to  give  them 
any  trouble."  He,  however,  reported  the  case,  as  by-and-by  the 
doors  were  opened,  and  in  walked  Doctor  Pocklington,  having  only 
his  pants  and  shirt  on  him.  He  said  he  would  send  me  something 
to  stop  the  retching,  and  change  my  diet  for  a  few  days.  I  got  hot 
milk  for  breakfast  and  supper,  and  rice  pudding  for  dinner,  or  rather 
as  dinner,  for  the  pudding  was  the  only  dinner  I  got.  It  was  very 
nice  and  sweet,  and  great  was  my  regret  that  I  could  not  keep  this 
on  my  stomach;  it  was  so  seldom  I  got  anything  nice,  that  I 
sorely  lamented  the  loss  of  it. 

I  think  it  was  three  days  this  diet  continued  ;  I  was  somewhat  re- 
covered then,  and  the  bread  and  water  commenced  again,  and 
again  came  a  relapse  of  my  illness,  which  clung  to  me  for  four  or 
five  days.  Doctor  Pocklington  was  as  kind  as  man  could  be.  I 
don't  know  what  his  feelings  towards  me  were,  but  I  feel  kindly  to- 
wards him  for  the  promptness  with  which  he  came  to  see  me  those 
nights,  and  from  the  fact  that  I  never  heard  an  unpleasant  word, 
nor  saw  an  unpleasant  look  from  him  those  twelve  months  that  I  was 
in  Millbank  prison. 

After  the  twelve  days  the  four  months'  punishment  diet  com- 
menced, and  coming  to  the  end  of  the  time  I  found  my  body  cover- 
ed with  small  pustules,  like  little  boils.  Not  an  inch  of  me  was 
free  from  them,  and  they  looked  very  ugly  with  their  white  heads. 

At  their  first  appearance  I  showed  them  to  the  doctor,  and  he 
said  it  was  the  natural  result  of  the  food  I  was  getting,  of  confine- 
ment in  a  darkened  cell,  and  of  want  of  exercise.  A  fortnight  af- 
terwards, as  the  officers  were  stripping  me,  one  of  them  named 
Cooper  opened  his  eyes  in  wonder  at  the  appearance  of  my  skin. 

"  What,"  said  he,  "  did  you  not  show  them  to  the  doctor?" 

I  told  him  I  did,  but  as  the  doctor  said  it  was  only  the  natural 
result  of  my  punishment,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  let  nature  take 
its  course. 

"When  the  doctor  comes  round  next  show  them  to  him  again." 

"  Indeed  I  will  not,"  said  I. 

"Then,"  added  he,  "  I  will  have  to  make  a  report  of  the  case." 


O' }  Donovan  Rossafs  Prison  Life.  249 

He  did  report  it,  and  I  was  taken  to  Dr.  Gover's  office,  and  or- 
dered to  strip,  and  after  this  chief  doctor  looking  at  my  condition, 
he  ordered  me  to  dress  and  be  taken  to  my  cell. 

I  afterwards  learned  that  the  Medical  Department  had  a  fight 
with  the  Directory  Department  about  my  treatment.  Gambier 
wanted  to  continue  my  punishment  up  to  the  requirements  of  dis- 
cipline, no  matter  what  became  of  my  health,  and  after  the  four 
months  had  expired  I  believe  I  would  have  got  more  bread  and 
water  for  not  working  during  the  time  only  the  doctors  inter- 
fered. 

I  know  Doctor  Gover  told  me  he  was  trying  to  keep  me  oh* 
of  punishment,  and  hoped  I  would  assist  him  by  good  behavior,  to 
which  I  replied  "  that  I  needed  to  be  treated  only  like  any  other 
prisoner,  to  act  like  any  other."  I  have  nothing  harsh  to  say  of  the 
doctors  of  Millbank;  they  gave  me  a  glatss  of  magnesia  three  times 
a  day  to  help  me  to  digest  my  punishment  diet ;  they  acted  like  gen- 
tlemen ;  but  I  have  something  different  to  say  of  the  doctors  else- 
where. 

i?  or  the  first  three  or  four  days  I  had  company  in  the  punish- 
ment ward,  as  John  Devoy  and  St.  Clair  had  been  undergoing  a 
sentence  of  four  months  in  penal  class  when  I  came  to  be  classed 
with  them.  This  they  had  got  on  a  charge  of  attempting  to  break 
through  their  cells ;  and  they  did  make  such  an  attempt ;  but,  as  in 
unsuccessful  revolutions,  got  punished  because  they  did  not  succeed. 
When  the  Director  asked  John  Devoy  was  he  sorry  for  his  offence, 
John  told  him  he  was  sorry  that  he  failed.  He  was  undergoing 
this  four  months,  and  seemed  not  to  be  yet  satisfied  that  he  had  had 
a  fair  trial  of  himself  in  the  way  of  escaping,  for  one  day  he  attacked 
two  warders  who  were  superintending  him  while  he  was  sweeping 
his  cell ;  he  knocked  one  down  with  a  blow  of  the  brush  handle ; 
the  second  blow  was  warded  off  by  the  other's  club  ;  the  brush  han- 
dle broke ;  the  officer  ran  to  give  the  alarm,  and  John  seeing  the 
cause  was  lost  again,  commenced  to  dress  the  wound  of  the  officer 
he  had  knocked  down,  and  allowed  the  wounded  man  to  have  the 
credit  of  locking  him  up  before  the  others  came.  It  was  when  he 
was  brought  before  the  Director  for  this  offence  that  I  met  him  in 
the  passage  way  and  shook  hands  with  him. 

We  had  daring  spirits  in  Millbank  prison  about  this  time,  and 
with  the  means  of  communication  we  had,  we  were  forming  a  plan 
to  seize  upon  the  officers'  armory  and  make  a  fight.  It  was  a  des- 
perate idea ;  but  with  all  that  had  been  ever  said  about  the  Irish 
never  making  a  decent  fight,  but  always  making  fiascos,  we  had 
pledged  ourselves  that  in  this  affair  we  were  to  fight  to  the  death. 
In  case  of  any  sudden  alarm  that  would  interfere  against  our  escape, 
we  were  to  leave  a  mark  after  us,  by  burning  up  everything  that 
we  could  burn,  London  itself  if  possible,  so  that  these  English  gov- 
ernors would  have  a  lesson  given  them  regarding  the  propriety  of 
bringing  Irish  political  prisoners  to  London  in  order  to  herd  them 
with  their  thieves. 


250  0" Donova.x  Hoszds  Prison  Life. 

I  know  that  I  counselled  the  most  extreme  measures;  my  spirit 
was  galled,  and  I  was  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice,  even  that  of 
life,  for  the  sake  of  revenge.  If  I  could  lay  the  city  in  ashes  I  would 
do  so,  even  though  my  bones  were  reduced  to  ashes  with  it. 

General  TTalpin  was  in  a  part  of  the  prison  that  we  could  not 
easily  reach  when  we  were  speculating  on  this  mutiny,  and  before 
wTe  could  communicate  wTith  him  thoroughly,  Clerkenwell  was  blown 
up ;  soldiers  were  brought  to  guard  us,  and  other  changes  were 
made  that  obliged  us  to  give  up  the  project. 

In  consequence  of  John  Devoy  having  used  his  broom  in  the 
scuffle  with  the  officers,  the  handles  were  cut  off  of  all  the  brooms 
in  the  prison,  and  in  sweeping  your  cell  you  had  nothing  to  lay 
hold  of  but  the  stump  that  held  the  tuft  of  hair. 

In  the  month  of  July  the  weather  was  very  warm,  and  the  air 
of  those  cells  was  almost  unbearable.  To  give  us  a  little  ventila- 
tion, the  trap  doors  wTere  left  open  during  the  day.  This  wTas  cus- 
tomary every  Summer,  but  John  Devoy,  and  St.  Clair  and  I  de- 
stroyed the  custom  by  availing  of  it  for  the  purpose  of  whispering 
'newrs  to  each  other  w7hen  we  thought  the  warders  were  absent. 

I  discovered  one  day  that  an  officer  was  playing  eaves-dropper  as 
John  and  I  wTere  talking.  I  heard  him  slingeing  down  closer  to  my 
door,  and  as  it  was  necessary  to  make  his  presence  known  I  cried 
aloud,  "  John,  there  is  some  fellow  here  alongside  of  my  door  listen- 
ing." By-and-bye  all  our  trap  doors  were  closed,  and  we  lost  the 
iittle  current  of  air  and  little  conversation  we  were  enjoying. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  devil  took  it  into  his  wicked  head 
to  notice  I  was  in  prison,  and  pay  me  a  visit.  He  did  it  in  the  shape 
of  womankind.  You  need  not  imagine  that  the  woman  came  into 
my  cell,  or  that  I  saw  the  devil  there,  and  hurled  my  ink-bottle  at 
him  as  Martin  Luther  is  said  to  have  done  when  he  w7as  in  prison  ; 
but  if  what  theologians  say  about  the  old  gentleman  be  true,  he  was 
with  me  to  a  certainty — albeit,  I  have  not  much  faith  in  the  possi- 
bility of  his  getting  out  of  hell. 

Father  Burke  says — "The  devil  understands  every  age  better 
than  anybody  else,  after  the  Almighty  God.  He  tries  to  entrap  the 
young  men  into  secret  societies,  to  make  them  swear  away  their 
manhood  and  liberty  by  secret  oaths,  and  make  them  pledge  them- 
selves— puts  an  obligation  on  them — the  fulfillment  of  which  would 
involve  crime  or  imorality,  perhaps  even  bloodshed  and  murder." 
With  the  latter  part  of  this  sentence  I  have  nothing  to  do  further 
than  to  say  I  look  upon  it  as  mere  Cullen  clap-trap  in  so  far  as 
it  relates  to  secret  societies  amongst  Irishmen  against  England,  but 
with  the  former  part  of  it  I  must  have  a  little  connection. 

"  The  devil  understands  every  age  better  than  anybody  else 
after  Almighty  God."  Well,  I  suppose  it  is  my  duty  to  believe  it 
on  such  authority,  even  though  I  am  very  chary  about  putting  the 
devil  on  anything  at  all  like  an  equality  with  God.  I  believe  in 
God,  but  I  defy  the  devil,  and  I  cannot  at  all  bring  myself  to  give 


(J  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  251 

his  satanic  majesty  the  omnipotent  power  and  omnipresence  I  give 
my  Creator.  I  find  it  hard  to  believe  the  devil  can  be  everywhere,  or 
that  he  has  power  to  circumvent  the  Lord  in  the  purposes  for  which 
He  made  man.  Passing  all  that  by,  and  getting  into  the  phraseol- 
ogy of  the  times,  let  me  say  that  the  devil  came  into  my  prison  cell 
in  the  shape  of  a  woman,  and  never  ceased  worrying  me  for  three  or 
four  years.  Why  he  did  not  lay  siege  to  me  the  first  few  years  I  do 
not  know.  Perhaps  it  was  that  my  mind  was  occupied  with  the 
hopes  and  fears  attending  upon  a  fight  in  Ireland,  and  when  that 
was  pronounced  a  dead  failure  the  ground  lay  fallow  and  the  weeds 
sprung  up. 

But  certain  it  is  that  "the  Old  Boy"  did  attack  me,  and  never 
more  vigorously  than  when  I  was  in  the  most  miserable  condition. 
On  starvation  diet,  and  in  a  black-hole  cell,  where  not  a  ray  of  light 
could  enter,  the  old  fellow  would  scroodge  his  way  in  to  remind  me 
how  pleasant  it  would  be,  even  there,  to  have  female  company. 

Unlike  some  of  the  saintly  men  of  old,  who  were  similarly  as- 
sailed in  their  solitude,  I  had  no  virgin  snow  nor  spiked  girdle  to 
embrace.  My  comforter  for  a  time  was  an  algebraic  question  or  a 
proposition  of  Euclid,  which  I  took  to  bed  with  me  and  worked 
away  at  till  I  fell  asleep ;  but,  as  if  my  jailers  knew  that  I  helped 
myself  in  this  manner,  they  took  my  Euclid  and  my  Algebra  from 
me  on  the  plea  that  I  could  have  no  books  because  I  would  not 
work  while  on  punishment. 

The  devil,  seeing,  I  suppose,  how  I  was  fighting  him,  must  have 
gone  to  Gambier  and  instigated  him  to  deprive  me  of  the  books. 
But  I  did  not  give  up  the  fight  so  easily.  I  told  the  jailers  if  I  did 
not  get  my  school-books  I'd  give  them  no  peace — I'd  break  every- 
thing I  could — in  other  words,  I'd  keep  away  the  devil  by  playing 
the  devil  with  everything.  I  gave  them  a  few  days  to  consider. 
During  this  time  Father  Zanetti  told  me  that  Gambier  was  talking 
to  him  about  school-books,  and  asking  him  whether  I  would  be 
more  incorrigible  with  them  than  without  them,  to  which  the 
priest  replied  that  he  supposed  it  would  not  make  me  worse  to 
get  them.  Next  morning  I  took  the  cover  of  my  bucket  and  I 
made  one  big  stroke  at  the  thick  bull's-eye  that  was  built  into 
the  wall  to  let  in  the  gaslight.  The  officer  immediately  made 
his  appearance,  demanding  what  I  was  about.  "What  about  my 
Euclid  and  Algebra?"  said  I;  "if  I  don't  get  them  I'll  knock  this 
spyglass  of  yours  into  triangles."  He  told  me  to  stop  awhile,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  he  came  back  with  the  books. 

I  had  played  them  another  trick  the  night  before.  They  were 
treating  me  as  bad  as  they  could  treat  me,  and  in  my  case  there 
could  hardly  be  any  change  for  the  worse,  and,  if  there  could,  it 
should  be  a  change  that  would  bring  me  some  variety,  and,  conse- 
quently, some  improvement ;  then,  I  had  no  reason  to  fear  anything 
from  them.  Even  in  this  punishment  cell,  from  which  they  shut  out 
the  light  by  a  strong  perforated  iron  blind,  they  should  keep  my 


252  O^  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

gaslight  burning  all  aight.  When  the  prison  was  locked  up,  and 
the  extra  officers  had  retired,  I  got  out  of  my  bed,  and  with  my 
clothes  I  stuffed  the  bull's-eye  so  that  a  ray  of  light  could  not  enter. 
The  officers,  on  noticing  the  darkness,  made  an  alarm,  and  four  or 
five  of  them  came  parleying  with  me  immediately  after.  I  wanted 
no  nio-ht-light ;  they  would  not  allow  me  the  daylight,  and  I  did 
not  want  their  gas  when  I  wanted  to  sleep.  I  should  be  treated 
like  any  other  prisoner,  and  when  they  took  away  my  books  I  would 
take  away  their  lights,  to  assimilate  my  treatment  to  that  of  other 
prisoners.  The  end  of  it  was  I  unmuffled  the  bull's-eye  on  the 
promise  that  they  would  ask  next  day  if  my  books  were  to  be  re- 
stored to  me,  and  restored  they  were. 

It  was  while  I  was  undergoing  these  four  months'  punishment 
on  bread  and  water  that  a  proposition  was  made  to  me  of  volunteer- 
ing to  Western  Australia.  Yes,  "volunteering:"  that  is  the  word. 
The  Government  were  so  kind  now  as  to  condescend  to  pretend  to 
give  me  a  will  of  my  own. 

The  door  of  my  cell  was  thrown  open  one  dar, and  Governor 
Morish  stood  outside  the  gate  with  paper  and  pencil  in  hand— 

"  I  have  come  to  know  if  you  will  volunteer  to  go  to  the  penal 
settlements  of  Western  Australia  ?" 

"  Volunteer,  did  you  say,  Governor  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  To  go  there  as  a  prisoner,  and  be  a  prisoner  when  I  get  there  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  will  do  no  such  thing." 

"  Why,  all  the  other  prisoners  are  going." 

"  That's  no  matter  to  me.  You,  I  suppose,  can  send  me  too  if 
you  like,  or  do  anything  you  please  with  me,  but  I'll  do  no  volun- 
teering for  you." 

"  But  the  Government  will  not  send  you  otherwise." 

"  Then  I'll  remain  here  with  the  Government.  I  prefer  to  receive 
their  tortures  and  starvation  in  the  heart  of  England  than  in  the 
wilds  of  Western  Australia.  If  you  are  taking  down  names  you 
can  put  me  down  as  not  volunteering.  I  am  a  prisoner,  and  in  the 
hands  of  the  authorities.  They  can  do  what  they  _  please  with  me  ; 
but  whatever  they  do  must  be  at  their  own  responsibility." 

"  Then  I  am  to  put  you  down  as  not  desiring  to  go  ?" 

"  It  is  not  a  question  at  all  of  my  desiring  to  go  or  not  to  go.  I 
know  well  the  authorities  care  very  little  about  my  desires.  They 
will  study  their  own  convenience,  not  mine.  I  do  not  know  what 
their  motives  are  in  sending  me  to  Australia  ;  but  when  you  tell  me 
I  am  to  be  a  prisoner  there,  I  prefer  to  be  near  you  here,  where  I 
can  make  my  wants  known,  than  thousands  of  miles  away  from  you 
— away  amongst  the  savages,  where  there  may  beorders  to  '  civi1- 
ize'  me  in  the  fashion  that  you  are  doing  it  here  in  London.  No, 
Governor,  I  will  give  the  authorities  no   excuse.     Put  me  down  as 


0' 'Donovan  Bosstfs  Prison  Life,  253 

saying,  e  I  am  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities  ;  they  can  do  with  me 
what  they  please,  but  I  will  do  no  volunteering  anywhere.'  " 

He  penciled  something  on  his  paper,  walked  away,  and  the 
warder  shut  the  door. 

Any  change  of  life  at  this  time  to  me  would  be  a  God-send,  and 
I  was  hoping  I  would  be  sent  to  Australia ;  but  I  would  not  give 
them  the  satisfaction  of  volunteering  to  go  there.  If  anything  hap- 
pened to  us,  they  would  say  we  volunteered,  and,  for  my  part,  I  did 
not  want  to  put  it  in  their  power  to  say  this.  I  felt  a  kind  of  pleasure 
in  seeing  them  treat  us  brutally  in  England,  and  I  could  not  enjoy 
this  feeling,  under  similar  treatment,  in  the  Antipodes. 

But,  as  I  guessed,  my  desires  in  the  matter  were  nothing.  In  a 
few  days  the  Government  doctor  came  and  inspected  me,  and  in  a 
few  days  more  it  was  officially  announced  to  me  that  I  w~as  to  be  sent 
to  the  penal  colony  of  Western  Australia.  I  got  a  sheet  of  paper  to 
write  the  farewell  letter  to  my  wife.  I  wrote,  but  it  was  pronounced 
unfit  to  be  let  out.  I  wrote  a  second,  against  which  the  same  sen- 
tence was  pronounced,  and  then  I  learned  some  way  that  the  Aus- 
tralians were  sent  off  and  I  was  left  behind. 

The  secret  of  this  is,  that  between  the  time  the  Governor  first 
spoke  to  me  about  going  and  the  time  of  the  ship's  sailing,  Colonel 
Kelly  and  Captain  Deasy  were  rescued  from  the  police  in  Manches- 
ter. This  changed  the  mind  of  the  Government,  and  it  was  con- 
sidered as  well  to  keep  some  of  us  in  England  as  send  us  out  of  it. 

I  cannot  put  out  of  my  mind  the  vexation  that  entered  it  on 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  Father  Zanetti  met  me  one  day, 
when  I  asked  him  a  question  as  to  whether  John  O'Leary  and 
Thomas  Clarke  Luby  were  sent  off  or  not.  They  were  in  Portland, 
a  distance  of  some  two  hundred  miles,  and  more  unsurpassable  bar- 
riers of  locks  and  keys  and  stone  walls  divided  us.  I  would  feel 
more  lonesome  if  I  heard  they  had  gone  further  away  from  me.  I 
asked  the  priest  to  grant  me  one  request,  one  day  he  came  into  my 
cell.  "  What  was  it  ? "  "  To  tell  me  if  O'Leary  and  Luby  were 
sent  to  Australia."  He  stamped  his  foot  upon  the  floor  in  a  rage, 
saying:  "Don't  be  asking  me  such  questions;  don't  you  know  my 
honor  is  pledged,  and  that  I  cannot  answer  you?"  That  was  the 
last  question  I  ever  asked  this  scrupulously  honorable  man,  who  was 
a  perfect  type  of  the  union  of  Church  and  State — a  priest  of  God  and 
a  priest  of  the  English  Convict  Government,  too. 

My  four  months'  penal  class  in  penal  servitude  had  expired,  and 
I  was  taken  down  to  my  ordinary  cell.  If  I  got  coir  to  pick  again 
I  would  refuse  to  pick  it,  but  they  brought  skeins  of  coir  cord 
and  asked  me  to  keep  winding  them  into  balls.  There  was  no  talk 
of  task  work,  and  I  went  on  pretty  comfortably  for  some  weeks.  I 
went  to  chapel  every  morning,  and  there  I  got  acquainted  with 
James  Xavier  O'Brien.  There  was  no  formal  introduction,  such  as 
"Mr.  O'Brien,  Mr.  O'Donovan;  Mr.  O'Donovan,  Mr.  O'Brien,"  but 
the  prisoners  who  sat  between  us  communicated  to  me  who  he  was 


254:  0: 'Donovan  Rosso? s  lPrison  Life. 

and  to  him  who  I  was,  and  then  we  looked  at  each  other  and  slyly 
nodded.  In  course  of  time  we  came  to  pass  letters  to  each  other, 
and  he  was  instructing  me  in  many  things  about  the  "movement" 
in  Ireland. 

One  time  that  himself  or  his  cell  was  searched,  a  letter  of  mine 
was  found,  and  it  brought  me  to  misfortune  again.^  My  name  was 
not  signed  to  it,  yet  that  was  no  matter,  as  it  contained  evidence  to 
show  that  none  but  myself  could  be  the  writer.  I  had  stated  that 
I  applied  for  a  visit  and  got  permision ;  that  I  sent  a  ticket  to 
Richard  Pigott  and  a  lady  friend,  and  that  Gambier,  the  Director, 
was   "  as  hvDOcriticallv   civil  as   possible  in   granting  it."     I  was 


And  so," 


. » 


brought  before  Gambier ;  he  held  the  letter  before  him.  " 
said  he,  "  you  say  I  was  hypocritically  civil !"  "  Now,  governor 
said  I,  "  you  want  to  make  me  admit  it  was  I  wrote  that  letter.  I 
avail  of  my  legal  privilege,  and  will  admit  or  deny  nothing.  You 
prove  your  case;  but  this  you  may  be  sure  of — that  if  what 
you  hold  in  your  hand  was  written  by  me  it  contains  nothing  but 
the  truth."  "Then  I  will  stop  your  visit,  the  ticket  of  which  has 
been  sent  to  Mr.  Pigott !"  "  Oh  !  you  may  do  anything  you  please." 
And  orders  were  immediately  given  to  write  to  Dublin  that  I  had 
forfeited  the  privilege  granted  to  me  of  a  visit.  I  was  taken  away, 
but,  instead  of  being  taken  to  a  punishment  cell,  I  was  taken  into 
the  yard  to  take  my  hour's  exercise.  I  concluded  that  I  had 
escaped  this  time  without  getting  bread  and  water ;  for  once  s 
prisoner  offends  against  discipline,  there  is  nothing  for  him  but  the 
restraint  of  "  durance  vile  "  until  he  passes  through  the  purgatory 
that  washes  that  stain. 

It  is  wonderful  how  these  people,  with  all  their  hatred  of  Catho- 
licity, have  introduced  into  their  prison  punishment  the  very  dogmas 
of  the  creed.  They  sneer  at  purgatory,  absolution,  and  indulgences, 
and  at  wiping  away  the  stain  that  remains  after  sin,  after  the  sin 
itself  is  atoned  for ;  but  they  retain  the  very  essentials  of  the  creed  in 
the  management  of  their  convict  system.  Here  is  an  instance.  A  bit 
of  lead  pencil  is  found  secreted  in  my  cell ;  I  am  sentenced  to  three 
days'  bread  and  water,  and  am  fined  84  marks.  I  pass  over  my 
three  days'  bread  and  water,  and  the  84  marks  add  14  days  to  my 
imprisonment.  A  visit  is  due  to  me  every  six  months,  and  a  month 
after  the  report  I  ask  for  my  visiting  ticket  as  it  is  due.  The  books 
are  looked  over,  the  stain  of  sin  is  found  against  me.  I  am  re- 
ported and  punished  for  having  a  bit  of  pencil,  and  must  remain 
three  months  purging  myself  of  that  stain  before  I  can  obtain  any 
privilege.  I  must  remain  two  months  after  it  without  writing  a 
letter,  even  though  my  writing  time  was  due  that  day  I  was  re- 
ported. I  can,  if  I  wish,  apply  to  the  Director  to  grant  the  indul- 
gence, but  he  can,  if  he  wish,  refuse  it. 

From  the  day  I  entered  this  prison  until  the  day  I  was  punished 
for  having  my  work  done  ten  minutes  before  the  time,  I  was  stripped 
naked  every  noon  time.     I  then  "struck"  against  stripping  daily, 


O' Donovan  Ilossa?s  Prison  Life,  255 

and  the  practice  was  given  up.  I  gained  a  point  here,  but  it  was 
not  gained  without  suffering  and  sacrifice,  and  I  believe  England 
will  never  surrender  anything  to  anyone  who  is  not  ready  to  put 
these  into  practice  against  her. 

The  day  my  letter  was  found  with  O'Brien  I  was  stripped  three 
times.  I  went  through  the  process  without  resistance,  because  I 
knew  I  had  nothiug  contraband  about  me,  and  I  was  anxious  to 
learn  what  was  up.  Nothing  was  found  in  my  place  to  warrant  a 
charge  against  me.  I  was  taken  before  the  Governor  and  charged 
with  some  of  my  writing  being  found  in  the  cell  of  another  person. 
Being  asked  what  I  had  to  say,  I  said,  "  Nothing."'  I  was  put  into 
a  darkened  cell  to  await  the  Director's  decision,  and  after  three  days 
I  was  taken  out  and  told  he  had  ordered  that  I  be  kept  from  Mass 
and  morning  prayers  during  the  rest  of  my  time.  I  was  four  days 
in  my  ordinary  cell  winding  my  balls  of  twine,  and  as  the  officers 
came  around  I  kept  twitting  them  about  introducing  the  old  Irish 
penal  laws  into  prison,  and  protested  against  the  illegality  of  keep- 
ing me  from  chapel  when  I  was  not  supposed  to  be  under  punish- 
ment. If  I  was  to  be  persecuted,  I  demanded  it  in  a  disciplinary 
form.  At  six  o'clock  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  my  doors  were 
opened  and  I  was  ordered  to  come  out.  Out  I  came,  and  was  con- 
ducted to  a  punishment  cell.  "  What  is  this  for?"  said  I.  "What 
is  my  offence,  and  what  is  my  punishment  ?"  But  I  would  not  be 
told.  Breakfast  came,  and  I  got  my  eight  ounces  of  bread  and  my 
pint  of  water.  Again  I  asked  for  an  explanation,  and  was  told  I 
would  know  soon  enough.  I  was  getting  a  little  wrathy.  The  reg- 
ulations declare  that  before  a  prisoner  is  put  under  punishment,  he 
must  be  told  the  duration  of  it,  and  the  offence.  Sir  John  Davies 
says  there  is  no  people  in  the  world  who  more  love  to  be  treated 
legally  than  the  Irish.  I  suppose  I  have  some  of  this  national  feel- 
ing, and  though  it  was  English  law  I  was  under,  I  felt  this  time  I 
had  not  the  benefit  of  it,  and  that  I  was  being  treated  illegally. 

When  the  officer  said  you  will  know  soon  enough,  I  determined 
I  would,  and  said  "  that  I  will."  I  laid  my  bread  and  water  on  my 
bed  board.  I  took  off  one  of  my  slippers,  and  with  the  heel  of  it  I 
smashed  the  spy-hole  of  the  door.  The  alarm  being  given,  a  half  a 
dozen  warders  were  on  the  spot  immediately.  I  was  placed  in 
handcuffs  and  conducted  to  another  cell.  No  sooner  were  they 
gone,  than  I  gave  the  trap-door  a  kick,  and  it  gave  way,  with  all 
the  surrounding  irons  that  were  fastening  it.  I  then  put  out  my 
handcuffed  hands,  drew  back  the  bolt,  and  opened  in  the  door.  The 
man  in  charge,  hearing  the  noise,  made  towards  me,  and  ordered 
me  to  shut  the  door.  "  I  prefer  it  open,"  said  I.  He  put  in  his 
hand  to  pull  out  the  door,  but  I  was  further  in  than  he,  and  had 
more  power  to  keep  it  open.  He  shook  his  club  at  me,  and  I  told 
him  he  may  as  well  keep  quiet,  that  I  wanted  a  little  air,  and  would 
keep  the  door  open  as  long  as  I  could.  Stamping  his  foot,  and  bob- 
bing his  head  at  me  at  every  word,  he  emphatically  shouted,  "Shut 


256  G*  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life. 

— that  door — I  say."  "I  will  not — shut — that  door — I  say."  He 
went  off,  and  soon  returned  with  a  principal  officer,  who  unlocked 
the  gate.  The  first  fellow  dashed  in,  caught  me  by  the  throat, 
pinned  me  to  the  wall,  and  raised  his  club  to  strike  me.  My  hands 
were  tied.  I  could  do  nothing  but  cry  out,  "  Coward,"  and  he  did 
not  let  the  blow  fall.  I  was  mad.  I  lost  my  temper  for  the  first 
time,  and  when  he  had  loosened  his  grasp  of  my  throat,  I  foolishly 
swore,  "By  heavens,  I'll  make  you  pay  for  this  yet."  Yes;  for  a 
fortnight  afterwards,  if  I  caught  that  man  where  I  could  fling  him 
down  the  stone  stairs,  I  could  deliberately  murder  him.  I  say  de- 
liberately;  for  I  had  made  up  mind  to  do  it  in  order  to  be  tried  for 
the  offence  in  open  court,  where  I  would  have  an  opportunity  of  ex- 
posing the  treatment  I  was  receiving.  I  forget  the  officer's  name ; 
it  was  something  like  Agden  ;  but  if  I  could  catch  him  or  Brown  or 
Cooper  on  a  stairs,  any  time  during  a  few  months  that  I  was  in  the 
humor,  I  would  fling  them  over  the  bannisters. 

I  am  not  boasting  or  "  blowing  "  now.  I  am  only  writing  my 
prison  life,  and  showing  my  reader  the  state  of  mind  I  was  in.  One 
time  more,  while  I  was  in  prison,  did  I  lose  my  temper,  so  far  as  to 
wish  I  had  a  weapon  I  could  fight  with.  I  did  not  care  what  odds 
were  against  me,  I  would  strike.  It  was  when  the  warders  kicked 
and  leaped  upon  me  in  Chatham. 

After  breaking  the  trap  door,  I  was  put  into  the  blackhole  cell 
for  twenty- four  hours. 

It  was  an  underground  cellar,  the  time  of  the  year  was  about 
the  20th  of  December,  and  it  was  piercingly  cold. 

I  got  a  rug  and  blanket,  but  no  mattress.  When  I  turned  from 
one  side  to  another  the  clothes  turned  with  me,  and  I  could  not  ar- 
range them,  as  my  hands  were  tied.  To  add  to  my  comfort,  I  was 
longer  than  the  width  of  the  cell,  and  I  could  not  get  a  full  stretch 
of  my  legs.  When  the  morning  dawned — or  rather  when  my  break- 
fast of  bread  and  water  came,  for  there  was  no  dawn  of  day  in  this 
hole — I  felt  one  of  my  wrists  \ery  sore,  and  I  told  the  warders  to 
tell  the  doctor  I  wanted  to  see  him,  as  the  irons  were  unnecessarily 
tight. 

The  doctor  came,  and  when  I  raised  my  wrists  up  to  the  lantern 
I  found  them  covered  with  blood.  "  Oh,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  jailers, 
"  he  has  been  only  using  violence  to  himself,  airA  the  doctor  pro- 
nounced the  irons  not  unnecessarily  tight.  I  must  have  slept  some- 
thing during  the  night,  and  in  my  twisting  and  turning,  cut  my 
hands. 

The  funniest  thing  in  the  world  is  walking  in  those  cells. 
When  I  was  a  "  gr:enhorn  "  in  them  I'd  find  my  nose  or  my  fore- 
head bobbing  against  the  wall.  My  eyes  were  no  use  to  me,  and  I 
soon  learned  to  use  my  elbows  instead  of  them.  When  I  stood  up 
to  take  my  walk  I  placed  my  back  to  the  door  and  my  elbow  to  the 
wall,  paced  forward  with  my  head  thrown  backward,  and  back- 
ward with  my  head  thrown  forward,  always  taking  soundings  with 
my  elbow. 


C  Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life.  257 

I  was  told  my  punishment  this  time  was  six  days  on  bread  and 
water,  and  twenty-one  days  on  penal  class  diet,  for  writing  a  letter 
to  James  O'Brien.  The  blackhole  cell  is  truly  a  black  one,  where 
no  ray  of  sunlight  ever  enters ;  the  punishment  cell,  a  darkened 
one,  where  a  perforated  metal  sheet  keeps  out  the  full  light.  When 
I  knew  my  sentence,  my  passion  was  over,  and  I  got  into  good 
humor.  I  made  a  most  solemn  address  to  the  officers  one  day 
in  these  words:  "Now,  governors,  I  am  here  a  political  pris- 
oner in  England  ;  by  all  the  laws  of  civilization,  and  by  all  the 
rights  of  man,  I  am  entitled  to  as  much  coarse  food  as  will  sustain 
life,  and  to  an  ordinary  prison  ceil  that  will  admit  God's  daylight. 
I  know  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  command  the  food,  but  I  can  do 
something  to  get  myself  light ;  and  to  take  all  preliminary  steps 
towards  the  maintenance  of  peace,  I  ask  you  to  take  away  that  iron 
blind  before  I  proceed  to  do  it  myself."  The  officers  smiled  at 
each  other.  "  Then,  you  won't  do  it  ?"  "  Now,  you  had  better 
keep  quiet."  "  Then,  if  you  won't,  it's  my  duty  to  go  to  work  at 
it,"  and  laying  hold  of  my  wooden  spoon,  proceeded  to  delve  out 
little  bits  of  cement  till  the  spoon  broke.  It  was  left  with  me  to 
eat  a  pint  of  stirabout  that  is  given  every  fourth  day  to  a  prisoner 
on  bread  and  water.  The  pint  of  stirabout  coming,  I  asked  for  a 
spoon,  and  was  told  the  Governor  had  issued  an  order  that  I  should 
get  no  more  spoons  while  I  was  in  prison,  because  I  broke  the 
spoon  I  got.  The  doors  were  locked,  and  1  was  left  in  the  dark- 
ness with  my  hands  tied  and  my  pint  of  stirabout.  I  put  the  dish 
to  my  mouth,  but  it  was  not  running  stirabout,  it  was  thick,  and 
would  not  come  near  my  hungry  lips.  Oh,  no,  it  should  not  escape 
me  that  way.  I  was  determined  it  should  find  its  way  to  the  black- 
hole,  and  I  found  there  was  no  way  to  get  it  down  but  to  lay  the 
dish  on  the  floor,  and  lay  myself  resting  on  my  knees  and  elbows. 
You  may  call  this  eating  "  on  all  fours  "  if  you  like,  but  it  is  the 
way  I  had  to  take  my  dinner  that  day,  and  when  I  had  it  taken,  I, 
to  mark  the  circumsiance  in  my  memory,  turned  the  bowl  upside 
down  and  leaped  upon  it,  and  broke  it  into  pieces.  Having  done 
this,  I  found  myself  laughing  at  an  idea  that  entered  my  head,  and, 
as  I  enjoy  a  joke  at  all  times,  I  proceeded  to  perpetrate  a  practical 
one  now. 

The  officers  visited  me  every  two  hours  during  the  day  and  night. 
They  opened  the  three  doors  and  entered  the  cell  to  see  if  I  was 
dead  or  alive.  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  thing  if,  when  they 
came  again,  I  could  make  them  stay  with  me  till  my  time  was  up. 
It  was  this  made  me  laugh,  and  it  is  better  to  laugh  at  misfortune 
any  day  than  to  cry  at  it ;  so,  taking  a  piece  of  the  broken  dish,  I 
broke  it  into  smaller  pieces  with  my  teeth,  and  commenced  stuffing 
the  keyhole  of  the  inner  iron  gate.  It  was  fully  loaded  when  my 
friends  came  to  look  after  me.  "  What  is  the  matter  ? — this  key 
won't  work ;  show  here  the  lantern,"  said  Beresford,  and  as  he 
looked,  he  cried,  "  Well,  well,  to  be  sure." 


258  O'*  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life. 

Awls,  and  wires,  and  corkscrews,  and  gimlets  were  got  before 
they  could  get  out  all  my  little  wooden  sparables.  They  spent 
eight  hours  at  the  work,  while  I  kept  begging  of  them  to  go  away 
and  let  me  live  in  peace.  When  the  door  was  opened,  my  time  was 
up,  and  I  was  taken  back  to  my  blind  cell. 

When  the  twenty-seven  days  were  passed,  I  got  twenty-eight 
days  more  for  breaking  my  dish  and  spoon,  and  breaking  the  wall, 
and  writing  on  it ;  then  I  got  fourteen  days  for  something  else,  so 
that  from  the  20th  of  December  till  the  24th  day  of  February — the 
day  I  was  taken  from  Millbank  to  Chatham — I  was  on  bread  and 
water. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


CHRISTMAS  DAT  OX  "  BREAD  AND    WATER  " TELEGRAPHING    TO    JOHN 

DEVOY AN     ARCHBISHOP     ON     STEPHENS'     ESCAPE SOWING    DIS- 
TRUST  THE     HANDWRITING    ON   THE    WALL THE    BIBLE    IN    THE 

BLACKHOLE A  THIEF  FEEDS  ME  ;    HIS  LETTER  AND  HIS  PRESENT — j 

A    STEM  OF  A  DHUDEEN REFUSE    TO    HaVE  MY    PICTURE    TAKEN, 

EXCEPT  THE    QUEEN    SENDS    FOR    IT MANCHESTER    MURPHY    AND 

MICHAEL     O'BRIEN — A     NIGHT     ON    THE    HILLS    OF    CONNAUGHT — • 

"  FENIANISM  "      AND      "  RIBBONISM  " EDWARD    DUFFY    MEETING 

WITH  HIS  MOTHER APPLICATION   TO  SEE  HIM  DYING    REFUSED 

PREACHING A  WAIL MEDITATED  MISCHIEF A  CHANGE  FOR  THE 

BETTER  ONLY  A  PREPARATION  FOR  ONE  FOR    THE    WORSE JOUR- 
NEY  TO    CHATHAM  PRISON. 

The  several  incidents  and  reminiscences  of  the  past  few  months 
of  my  prison  purgatory  will  comprise  this  chapter.  The  punish- 
ment referred  to  in  the  last  one  commenced  on  Christmas  week,  and 
on  Christmas  day  I  found  myself  on  bread  and  water.  The  bell 
rang  for  dinner.  I  heard  the  doors  opening,  and  I  began  asking 
myself  was  it  possible  that  these  Christian  people,  who  were  so 
strong  on  the  Bible,  would  leave  me  on  Christmas  day  without  my 
dinner?     That  was  the  very  thing  which  was  possible.     Discipline 


O' Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life.  259 

proved  stronger  than  the  Christian  spirit.  My  door  was  passed,  and 
I  was  left  to  dine  upon  my  hungry  thoughts.  I  did  not  fare  very 
sumptuously  or  very  pleasantly,  and,  as  I  had  nothing  to  feed  upon, 
I  set  my  wits  to  work  to  get  something  to  do.  I  wanted  occupa- 
tion— something  to  take  my  mind  away  from  the  dinnerless  reflec- 
tions. I  had  an  iron  screw  in  my  pocket  that  I  picked  up  when  I 
kicked  open  the  trap-door  some  days  before,  and  with  this  I  set  to 
work  to  take  down  my  metal  blind,  and,  though  I  kept  at  it  till  I 
sweated,  I  did  not  make  much  progress.  I  lay  down  on  my  bed 
board  exhausted ;  I  rapped  on  the  wall  to  know  if  there  was  any 
prisoner  within  hearing  with  whom  I  could  hold  a  conversation  and 
kill  time.  I  got  a  response  from  a  cell  underneath  me,  and  I  asked 
the  signal  question:  "Who  are  you?"  to  which  I  got  the  re- 
sponse of  a  J  and  an  O,  and  a  H,  and  an  N",  and  a  D-E-V-O-T — 
"  John  Devoy."  I  signalled  back  "  Kossa,"  and  both  of  us  rapped  a 
Te  JL  eum  on  the  wall  before  we  commenced  conversation.  Hungry 
as  I  was  at  the  time,  I  would  rather  have  made  this  acquaintance 
than  the  acquaintance  of  the  best  Christmas  dinner  I  ever  saw. 

We  talked  till  the  time  John  had  to  go  to  evening  prayers,  but 
there  were  no  evening  prayers  for  me,  as  I  was  undergoing  punish- 
ment. When  he  returned  we  talked  again  till  bed-time,  when  he 
was  changed  to  another  cell.  Next  morning  he  was  brought  back, 
and  we  renewed  our  acquaintance.  Our  conversation  was  all  about 
Ireland  and  the  "  movement."  He  was  one  of  the  men  that  took 
James  Stephens  out  of  prison  ;  it  was  into  his  arms  he  was  received 
wlien  he  slipped  off  the  prison  wall,  and  I  got  the  full  history  of  the 
affair  from  him.  It  is  strange  to  find  it  industriously  circulated  in 
America  that  James  Stephens  was  taken  out  of  prison  with  the 
connivance  of  the  English  Government.  I  have  heard  it  time 
after  time,  and  so  have  many  others.  A  friend  was  telling  me  he 
was  one  evening  in  the  society  of  some  gentlemen,  lay  and  clerical, 
where  the  question  came  up.  An  archbishop  asserted  that  Mr. 
Stephens  was  let  out  by  the  Government.  The  friend  made  some 
observation,  which  would  imply  that  he  held  a  contrary  opinion, 
when  the  right  rev.  gentleman  silenced  him  by  some  such  observa- 
tion as  this :  "  Don't  contradict  me,  sir ;  I  have  reason  to  know 
what  I  say  is  true."  The  good  bishop  was  imposed  upon  by  some 
one  in  the  interest  of  England.  It  is  our  enemy's  business  to  circu- 
late the  canting  falsehood  that,  "  if  you  put  one  Irishman  on  the 
spit,  you'll  get  another  to  turn  him,"  or  that  you  cannot  get  an 
Irishman  at  all  whom  English  gold  will  not  purchase  to  betray  his 
country.  James  Stephens  was  taken  out  of  prison  by  men  who 
were  true  to  Ireland ;  and,  whatever  can  be  said  of  him  in  other 
respects,  this,  at  least,  may  be  said  of  him,  that  he  is  as  free  from 
the  taint  of  English  gold,  and  as  unlikely  to  be  corrupted  by  it,  as 
any  man  who  has  ever  spoken  of  his  name. 

For  three  or  four  weeks  I  was,  to  my  infinite  delight,  allowed  to 
remain  in  this  particular  cell  over  John  Devoy's.     I  had  the  four 


260  (?  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life, 

walls  of  it  covered  with  writing,  and  as  they  apprehended  I  would 
disfigure  in  a  similar  manner  every  cell  I  went  into,  they  thought  it 
better  to  allow  me  remain  in  the  one  I  was.  It  was  amusing  to 
see  the  inspectors  come  in  and  take  notes  of  the  handwriting  on 
the  wall. 

"  This  is  the  land  of  Bible  hypocrites,  where  they  starve  and 
worry  men  to  death  under  medical  superintendence,  so  that  none 
may  call  it  murder." 

"  We  will  not  kill  those  Irish  rebels  publicly,  but  starve  them 
privately." 

Then  in  another  corner  they  would  read  :  "  With  one  hand  they 
reach  to  me  the  Bible,  and  with  the  other  the  bit  of  bread  that 
starves  me  slowly." 

And  this  was  literally  true.  When  a  prisoner  was  put  on  bread 
and  water,  the  Bible  followed  him  to  his  punishment  cell,  and  if  he 
was  changed  from  one  cell  to  another,  the  Bible  followed  him.  One 
time  that  I  was  taken  to  the  blackhole,  Cooper  brought  my  Bible 
in  his  hand,  and  as  he  was  about  to  lock  me  in,  I  said,  "Aren't  you 
going  to  give  me  my  Bible  ?"  "  Why,  sure  you  have  no  light  to 
read  it."  "  But  can't  you  leave  me  one  of  those  lanterns  ?"  "  I  wish 
I  could.  Your  Bible  loill  be  left  here  outside  the  door  till  your  time 
is  up,  and  then  it  will  be  taken  to  your  other  cell,"  and  saying  so,  I 
saw  him  lay  down  the  book  at  a  corner  of  the  gate. 

I  could  feel  more  satisfaction  had  they  carried  the  farce  so  far  as 
to  allow  me  keep  the  book  in  the  blackhole.  But  the  worst  of 
it  was,  they  never  told  how  long  or  how  short  I  was  to  be  kept  in 
this  place,  and  I  was  too  much  on  my  dignity  to  ask  them,  for  by 
evincing  any  solicitude  on  the  subject  I  would  be  giving  them  the 
satisfaction  of  seeing  I  felt  their  treatment. 

I  was  as  quiet  as  a  lamb  during  the  time  I  was  holding  com- 
munication with  Devoy,  but  they  occasionally  tried  my  temper  by 
taking  my  pint  of  stirabout  from  me  and  putting  me  on  bread  and 
water,  because  I  would  not  work  unless  I  got  the  ordinary  prison 
diet  and  ordinary  cell. 

"  Stop  that  knocking,  there ;  what  are  you  doing  that  for  ?" 
they'd  often  cry  out,  as  they  would  catch  me  telegraphing  to  John 
Devoy,  and  I'd  tell  them  I  was  trying  to  strike  up  "  Garry owen " 
on  the  wall,  as  I  had  no  other  way  of  killing  time.  Whenever  I 
noticed  myself  watched  I  tried  to  turn  the  knocking  into  the  playing 
of  a  tune. 

At  last  I  was  removed  from  this  cell,  and  finding  myself  located 
where  I  had  no  communication  with  any  one,  I  amused  myself  by 
repeating  all  the  pieces  of  poetry  my  memory  could  supply  me 
with. 

"  Stop  that  noise,  there  !  " 

"  What's  that  you  say  ?  "  said  I,  as  I  was  thus  interrupted  going 
through  one  oi  Davis'  poems. 

"  Stop  that  noise  there,  I  say." 


CPDonovan  Rosses  Prison  Life.  261 

"  Oh,  by  Jove,  I  won't.  I'm  making  no  noise  that  disturbs  any 
one  else." 

Next  morning  I  was  taken  before  the  Governor  and  charged 
with  making  noise  and  swearing  in  my  cell.  There  it  was,  down  in 
the  Governor's  book,  that  when  I  was  told  to  stop  that  noise  I  vehe- 
mently swore  out,  "By  Jesus,  I  won't."  I  told  the  Governor  it 
was  an  expression  I  never  used  in  my  life.  But  explanations  were 
out  of  the  question ;  I  should  not  say,  "  By  Jove,"  or  anything  else, 
in  my  cell,  and  had  to  take  my  punishment.  I  asked  him  to  remove 
the  expression  "  By  Jesus  "  from  the  record,  as  not  belonging  to  me, 
but  all  to  no  use ;  there  it  had  to  remain,  to  show  visitors,  directors 
and  others,  what  a  desperate  character  I  was. 

I  soon  got  a  comrade  in  the  cell  next  to  me.  He  was  after  es- 
caping from  Portsmouth  prison,  and  was  after  being  recaptured ;  he 
was  sent  alongside  of  me  to  indulge  in  six  months'  penal  class. 
He  could  "  knock  "  on  the  wall,  and  we  became  great  friends.  One 
day  I  was  sentenced  to  bread  and  water ;  when  I  came  back  from 
the  governor,  he  knocked,  and  asked  me  "  what  luck  ?"  I  told  him ; 
then  I  heard  his  bell  ring ;  he  was  allowed  to  the  closet,  and  when 
he  came  back  he  ordered  me  to  go  to  the  closet  immediately,  and 
take  a  loaf  that  he  left  there ;  if  I  didn't  the  officer  would  find  itf 
and  he  would  get  "  dosed,"  as  he  said.  I  obeyed  orders,  and  as  1 
was  returning  from  the  closet  I  had  the  loaf  in  my  pocket.  Before 
I  entered  my  cell,  two  officers  met  me,  who  were  coming  to  take 
me  to  another  cell  to  spend  my  term  of  bread  and  water.  I  had  to 
go  with  them  and  strip  outside  the  door.  I  was  questioned  why  I 
had  this  bread  in  my  pocket,  and  I  told  them  "  for  safety."  They 
broke  it  in  two  halves  and  threw  it  in  after  me.  When  I  had  dressed 
myself,  I  took  my  bread,  and  to  my  surprise  I  found  a  piece  of  brown 
paper  sticking  out  of  one  of  the  pieces.  How  it  escaped  detection 
I  do  not  know.  I  read  the  note ;  the  writer  told  me  I  should  not 
starve  while  he  had  a  bit  of  bread  to  spare,  and  every  day  they 
would  put  me  on  bread  and  water,  he'd  leave  a  loaf  for  me  in  the 
same  place  where  he  left  this.  His  father  was  from  near  Limerick, 
he  said,  and  was  evicted  by  the  landlord ;  himself  was  born  in  Eng- 
lan  I,  and  he  offered  his  family  wrongs  as  an  excuse  for  his  own  con- 
duct towards  the  people  that  legislated  him  and  them  into  ruin. 

He  told  me  he  wrote  this  letter  with  a  pen  that  he  made  out  of 
the  sprig  of  a  broom,  and  he  got  his  ink  out  of  a  bit  of  coal  that  he 
powdered  and  mixed  with  water.  This  was  different  to  the  receipt 
John  Devoy  gave  me  for  getting  ink.  It  was  to  be  produced  at  the 
expense  of  my  blood ;  but  the  question  was,  from  what  part  of  the 
body  could  the  most  copious  supply  be  drawn  with  the  least  degree 
of  pain,  and  after  many  experiments  he  learned  it  was  in  wounding 
a  particular  spot  inside  the  nostrils. 

Nugent's  term  of  punishment  had  expired  before  mine,  and  again 
I  was  without  a  companion.  He  was  a  very  active  person,  and 
could  do  more  work  in  cleaning  and  keeping  things  in  order  than 


262  OyDonovan  22odm's  Prison  Life. 

many  others.  For  this  reason  he  was  detailed  with  another  prisoner 
to  keep  all  the  wards  and  corridors  in  order,  an  officer  superintend- 
ing both  of  them.  I  got  an  hour's  exercise  every  penal  class  day  in 
a  small  yard  set  apart  for  refractory  prisoners.  A  door  shuts  you 
in,  and  in  this  there  is  a  round  hole  through  which  an  officer  can 
look  to  see  are  you  "  all  right."  I  was  pacing  round  this  coop 
when  a  whisper  of  "Iiossa"  came  through  the  hole.  I  appioached 
and  saw  my  late  penal  class  companion  and  another  prisoner  stand- 
ing to  attention;  the  two  of  them  looking  as  innocent  as  angels. 

They  were  opposite  the  door,  they  did  not  move  a  muscle  of  the 
face,  or  give  a  wink  to  me,  and  I  knew  the  officer's  eyes  were  on 
them.  I  took  another  turn  around  and  gave  another  peep,  when 
Nugent  pouted  out  his  lips  to  signify  that  he  had  something  in  his 
mouth  for  me.  What  could  it  be !  Oh,  of  course,  a  bit  of  lead 
pencil.  I  watched  the  hole  and  shortly  saw  something  drop  in  from 
the  tips  of  two  lingers.  I  made  for  it,  and  what  was  it  do  you 
think  ?  A  bit  of  the  stem  of  an  old  pipe.  He  had  been  sucking 
consolation  out  of  it,  and  now  he  parted  with  his  treasure  and  gave 
it  to  me  to  suck.  The  market  value  of  this  bit  of  a  dhudeen  was 
two  loaves  of  bread,  but  I  could  pay  nothing  for  it,  yet  here  was 
its  possessor  giving  me  a  clear  surrender  of  it  without  any  expecta- 
tion of  fee  or  reward,  besides  his  running  the  risk  of  being  detected 
in  transferring  the  property  and  suffering  more  therefor.  There  is 
"honor  among  thieves,"  and  noble  traits  of  character  too,  and  this 
is  one  of  the  instances  of  it. 

The  English  people  have  lately  cried  out  against  the  ill-treat- 
ment of  political  prisoners  in  France,  and  the  London  Times  sent  a 
commissioner  to  Oberon,  who  found  out  that  the  prisoners  had  one 
cause  of  complaint  against  the  Government  in  the  fact  that  the  to- 
bacco supplied  to  them  was  not  as  good  as  it  ought  to  be.  Eng- 
land would  never  think  of  asking  herself  how  she  treated  her  politi- 
cal prisoners  as  regards  tobacco.     Oh,  no  ! 

'"Tis  you're  the  sinner  always — she's  the  saint." 

Tobacco  for  her  prisoners  is  a  thing  out  of  the  question — "  'tis  a 
nuisance,"  "'tis  an  injury  to  them,"  and  three  days  is  the  lightest 
punishment  that  is  given  to  a  prisoner,  as  was  given  to  myself,  for 
being  found  in  possession  of  as  much  of  it  as  would  weigh  a  barley- 
corn. 

"  Come  on,  come  on,"  said  Warder  Power  to  me  one  day  as  he 
opened  my  door.  On  I  went,  and  was  brought  through  the  square 
in  which  tie  soldiers  were  on  parade.  I  was  soon  landed  in  a  room 
which  turned  out  to  be  the  photographic  department  of  the  estab- 
lishment. The  artist  had  his  glasses  ready,  and  sat  me  down  on  a 
chair  opposite  the  picturing  instrument.  As  soon  as  he  had  fixed 
me  in  position,  and  taken  his  hands  off,  he  made  for  the  machine  and 
I  stood  up. 

"  What  do  you  stand  up  for?"  said  he. 


O' *  Donovan  I?ossa?s  Prison  Life,  263 

"  What  would  I  sit  down  for  ?"  said  I. 

"  To  take  your  picture." 

"  My  picture  ?" 

"  Yes ;  sit  down  there  again,"  and  he  made  toward  me  to  place 
me  in  my  position. 

"  Now,  wait  awhile  ;  who  wants  my  picture  ?" 

"  We  want  it ;  sit  down." 

"  You  ?     Do  you  know  I  have  a  wife  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  I  have  a  wife,  and  you  have  made  her  awfully  jealous 
of  me  by  circulating  a  report  that  I  was  holding  an  intrigue  with 
another  man's  wife.  I  don't  want  to  make  matters  worse  than  they 
are  now  by  sending  my  picture  into  the  world ;  if  my  wife  saw  me 
with  any  other  woman,  it  may  cause  a  separation  for  life." 

"  Why,  what  a  foolish  man  you  are ;  don't  you  know  that  these 
photographs  are  for  the  prison  authorities,  and  that  they  do  not 
leave  the  prison  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  could  not  rely  upon  that,  and  my  mind  would  be  un- 
easy. The  prison  authorities  have  the  original,  and  I  will  give  them 
permission  to  come  and  look  at  me  whenever  they  please." 

"  Come  now,  come  now,  and  don't  be  so  foolish  ;  you  will  only 
be  bringing  additional  trouble  on  yourself,"  and  here  he  gently  laid 
hands  on  me  to  coax  me  into  the  chair. 

"  Oh,  no,  governor,  no  ;  there  is  no  trouble  to  me  like  trouble  of 
mind,  and  if  I  allowed  you  to  take  my  picture  I  could  not  help 
thinking  it  would  get  into  the  hands  of  other  women,  and  that  my 
wife  would  hear  it." 

"  Then  you  absolutely  refuse  to  allow  your  picture  to  be  taken  ?" 

"  Unless  I  see  that  it  is  absolutely  wanted,  and  that  I  have  guar- 
tees  it  will  not  be  improperly  used." 

Here  three  or  four  of  them  pressed  me  to  sit  down.  I  sat  down, 
and  as  soon  as  they  had  their  hands  off  me  I  stood  up  and  replied 
to  their  persuasion  thus — "  See  now,  governors,  there  is  no  use  press- 
ing me  further ;  there  is  only  one  condition  on  which  I  will  allow 
my  picture  to  be  taken,  and  that  is  this — that  the  Queen  write  to 
me  for  it,  and  promise  she  will  not  let  it  out  of  her  own  possession." 

I  was  taken  back  to  my  cell,  and  the  next  day  I  was  again  taken 
to  the  photographer,  with  the  same  result  as  before.  Clerkenwell 
Prison  was  after  being  blown  down  this  time  ;  alarm  reigned  every- 
where around.  Soldiers  were  brought  into  the  prisons,  our  rescue 
was  apprehended,  and  our  photographs  were  wanted  for  the  detec- 
tives in  case  we  were  taken  away ;  but  as  I  was  this  time  undergo- 
ing all  the  tortures  they  could  inflict  upon  me,  I  knew  they  could  not 
treat  me  worse,  and  I  would  not  give  them  the  satisfaction  of  letting 
them  make  a  picture  of  me. 

A  change  now  came ;  I  was  sent  from  one  side  of  the  pentagon 
to  another,  and  my  new  cell  was  somewhat  of  an  improvement 
upon   those   I   had    before.       It  had   no    iron   blind,  but  had  a 


264  (?  Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life. 

small  window  containing  two  panes  of  glass,  and  away  out  of 
my  reach,  near  the  ceiling,  nine  feet  high.  The  warder  opened 
it  in  the  morning  to  give  me  fresh  air,  and  many  an  anxious  wish  I 
had  to  indulge  myself  with  a  look  at  the  world  outside.  I'd  leap 
and  catch  the  sill  and  strain  myself,  but  light  as  my  body  was  it 
was  too  heavy  a  weight  for  my  hands  to  sustain,  and  I'd  drop  down 
after  a  few  seconds.  Bringing  all  my  wits  to  work  on  the  situation, 
I  was  at  last  able  to  attain  the  height  of  my  ambition,  and  have 
not  only  a  look  into  the  world,  but  a  whisper  with  an  old  acquaint- 
ance. I  piled  up  on  one  another  all  the  things  I  could  lay  hold  of. 
My  gutta-percha  pot  was  the  foundation  stone,  at  meal  time  my  stir- 
about dish  was  next,  then  my  gutta-percha  pint,  and  my  jacket  and 
vest  on  top  of  these,  each  folded  up  so  as  to  aftord  me  as  much 
height  as  possible,  and  on  top  of  all  I  placed  on  the  edge  a  timber 
plate  which  was  a  resident  of  the  cell  and  was  not  removed  when  I 
entered,  though  I  had  no  use  of  it.  It  was  as  nice  a  feat  as  you 
could  well  imagine,  to  see  me  plant  my  toes  on  the  rim  of  this  plate 
and  keep  hanging  to  the  sill  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  a  time  while 
holding  a  conversation  with  a  prisoner  in  another  cell.  My  hands 
would  get  tired  and  then  I'd  lean  on  the  structure  underneath  more 
heavily  than  I  ought ;  the  pile  would  totter  to  its  base.  My  first 
attempt  to  open  up  communications  proved  a  success,  but  a  melan- 
choly success,  from  the  information  it  brought  me.  When  I  had 
raised  myself  to  the  position  that  I  could  see  the  windows  of  the 
other  cells,  I  strongly  whispered — "  Is  there  any  one  there  ?  "  After 
three  or  four  repetitions  of  this,  a  whisper  came  back,  "  Who  are 
you  ?  "  "  Rossa."  "  Rossa  ?  Surely  ?  "  "  Oh,  yes,  who  are  you  ?  " 
"  Murphy  of  Manchester.  I  met  you  there,  don't  you  recollect,  in 
'64?"  Then  we  had  some  words  as  to  how  and  where  we  met, 
which  I  cannot  tell  here.  I  remembered  him  very  well,  and  asked 
what  brought  him  here  ? 

"  Why,"  said  he,  "  don't  you  know  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  how  could  I  know  ?  " 

"  Did  not  you  hear  of  the  three  men  that  were  hung  at  Man- 
chester ?  " 

"  No ;  who  were  they,  or  what  about  ?  " 

"Didn't  you  hear  of  Kelly  and  Deasy  being  rescued?" 

"  No,  no ;  what  Kelly  and  Deasy  ?  " 

"  Colonel  Tom  Kelly  and  Captain  Tim  Deasy." 

"  Is  it  Tom  Kelly  that  was  in  Dublin  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  and  Deasy  were  arrested  in  Manchester,  and  we  res- 
cued them.  One  of  the  police  was  shot,  and  three  men  were  hanged 
for  it,  and  seven  transported.  You  must  have  known  one  of  them 
that  was  hanged,  Michael  O'Brien,  of  Cork." 

These  last  words  staggered  me  ;  the  pile  that  was  under  my  feet 
fell ;  I  clung  to  the  window-sill,  and  asked — "  Is  it  Mike  O'Brien?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  you  knew  him  ;  he  belonged  to  the  National  Reading' 
room  there,  and  went  to  America,  and  came  back  to  light." 


CP  Donovan  BosscCs  Prison  Life.  265 

I  heard  no  more,  but  dropped  to  the  ground.  Here  was  Mika 
O'Brien  dead — hanged  !  Mike  O'Brien  !  one  of  my  oldest  friends 
in  the  organization,  one  of  the  truest  and  one  of  the  noblest ;  as 
artless  as  a  child,  as  devoted  as  a  lover,  and  as  courageous  as  a  lion. 
Dead — hanged  !  'Twas  too  bad.  I  first  made  his  acquaintance  in 
Cork  in  '59 ;  I  met  him  at  the  Crown  Hotel,  and  was  introduced  to 
him  by  a  relative  of  mine,  Denis  Downing,  both  of  whom  were 
then  doing  business  in  the  establishment  of  Sir  John  Arnott.  Denis 
was  arrested  in  Skibbereen  in  '58  on  a  charge  of  being  connected 
with  the  Phoenix  Society.  The  movement  was  then  in  its  infancy, 
and  Denis  was  in  his  infancy,  too — 16  years  of  age.  A  year  or  two 
after  his  release  from  prison,  he  came  to  America ;  went  into  the 
war  there  ;  raised  himself  to  the  rank  of  captain  ;  lost  a  leg  at  the 
battle  of  Gettysburg ;  was  marshalled  into  the  regular  army  after 
the  war,  and  stationed  in  Washington ;  got  into  ill  health  ;  got 
leave  of  absence  to  Ireland,  and  died  there.  Mike  O'Brien  came  to 
America,  too,  and  hearing  that  Denis  Downing  was  in  the  war,  made 
towards  him.  Denis's  brother  Patrick,  now  Colonel  Downing,  of 
Washington,  also  imprisoned  in  '58,  was  commanding  in  the  42 d 
Tammany  regiment.  Mike  O'Brien  met  the  brother;  they  were 
going  into  a  fight ;  he  should  go  with  them ;  and  providing  himself 
with  arms,  went  into  the  engagement  as  a  volunteer,  and  came  out 
of  the  battle  without  a  wound. 

I  met  him  in  New  York  in  '63.  One  day  he  said  to  me,  "  Rossa, 
I  must  get  more  knowledge  of  the  use  of  arms.  I'll  never  be  able 
to  do  much  if  I  do  not  know  how  to  fight.  I'm  determined  to 
learn  more  than  I  know  at  present,  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
join  the  13th  New  Jersey." 

"  Now,  don't  be  foolish.  What  good  are  you  to  Ireland  if  you're 
killed  ?" 

"  There  is  no  use  of  talking.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  this 
thing,  and  I  will  go.     Will  you  come  and  see  me  off?" 

There  was  no  use  parleying.  I  went  and  saw  him  off.  I  saw  him 
take  the  oath,  the  recruiting  sergeant  tempting  myself  by  saying  I 
would  make  a  splendid  soldier.  I  saw  him  on  the  train  that  took 
the  recruits  to  the  regiment's  headquarters,  and  that  is  the  last  I 
saw  of  Mike  O'Brien.  Oh,  God  !  to  have  that  man  hanged  as  a 
criminal.  Yes,  he  was  one,  but  as  noble  a  one  as  Emmett,  as  Tone, 
or  Fitzgerald,  or  any  one  who  died  for  the  cause  of  country. 

Murphy  whispered  to  me  that  Captain  M'Cafferty  and  St.  Clair, 
and  a  few  others  I  knew,  were  in  the  pentagon,  and  within  my  hear- 
ing. I  did  not  know  any  of  them  but  St.  Clair,  and  I  felt  timid 
about  calling  their  names,  lest  they  might  be  doing  the  role  of 
maintaining  a  good  prison  character,  and  averse  to  doing  anything 
against  the  regulations.  I  whispered  their  names  a  few  times,  and 
as  I  got  no  response  I  did  not  trouble  them  further.  I  knew  St. 
Clair.  I  met  him  in  London  in  '64.  He  had  then  the  character  of 
being  imprudent,  in  so  far  as  he  used  to  march  his  men  in  military 


266  0' 'Donovan  fiossa's  Prison  Life. 

order  through  the  streets.  He  was  in  penal  clsss  with  John  Devoy 
and  myself  on  a  charge  of  attempting  to  break  the  prison,  and  when 
Murphy  told  me  he  was  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  I  called  his 
name. 

He  heard  me ;  he  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  pentagon,  and  instead 
of  whispering  across  when  he  recognized  me  he  bawled  out  a  con- 
gratulation on  our  meeting.  It  drew  the  attention  of  the  officers 
upon  us,  and  got  our  quarters  changed. 

In  my  next  cell  Mike  O'Brien's  death  preyed  upon  my  mind  for 
a  few  days,  and  as  I  lay  on  my  bed  board  one  morning,  when  the 
prisoners  were  coming  from  chapel,  one  of  them  put  his  lips  to  the 
ventilator  and  whispered,  "Duffy  is  dead."  "Duffy  is  dead  !"  Ned 
Duffy  dead !  Another  of  the  confessors  of  the  faith.  The  man  who 
gave  me  the  whisper  was  Lynch,  who  was  detected  in  Portland 
prison  in  trying  to  pass  ont  the  letter  to  my  wife,  which  I  had  di- 
rected in  the  care  of  Mrs.  Moore.  He  was  then  within  a  few  months 
of  being  released,  but  in  consequence  of  being  detected  in  trying  to 
assist  me  the  authorities  laid  it  on  to  him ;  the  warders  kept  report- 
ing him  for  imaginary  offences ;  he  lost  all  the  remission  he  had  pre- 
viously earned,  and  had  to  work  out  the  whole  term  of  his  sentence. 
He  was  now  in  Millbank  preparatory  to  being  released ;  and  learn- 
ing that  I  was  in  the  same  ward,  put  himself  in  communication  with 
me. 

I  had  traveled  the  West  of  Ireland  with  Ned  Duffy,  and  we 
had  many  a  strange  adventure.  We  found  ourselves  one  night 
traveling  through  bogs  and  brakes  somewhere  in  that  triangle  of 
ground  within  the  three  towns  of  Ballaghadereen,  Boyle,  and  Bal- 
lymote. 

The  meeting  place  was  on  a  hill  within  view  of  some  rocky  em- 
inences that  are  full  of  caves.  I  think  they  are  called  the  Keish 
Mountains.     Our  guide  on  the  occasion  was  Shemus  Andy. 

We  were  to  meet  four  or  five  hundred  men,  but  there  was  some 
mistake  made  in  the  naming  of  the  place,  for  we  only  met  about 
half  of  them,  the  other  half  having  assembled  on  a  hill  some  three 
miles  distant.  This  we  discovered  after  we  had  ended  our  business 
about  midnight. 

Our  men  knew  that  the  boys  from  the  other  district  must  be 
somewhere,  and  a  few  of  them  shouted  a  peculiar  call ;  then  there 
was  dead  silence,  and  in  the  stillness  of  the  night  a  reply  was  heard 
from  a  place  three  miles  distant.  Our  men  then  gave  a  general 
shout  of  parting,  which  was  immediately  returned,  and  we  broke 
up,  scattering  in  different  directions. 

A  very  serious  question  was  to  be  determined  this  night.  An- 
other certain  society  was  in  the  district,  and  the  members  of  it  were 
averse  to  the  Society  of  United  Irishmen  being  introduced.  Our 
men  were  beaten  at  fairs  and  markets,  and  on  the  highway,  when- 
ever they  were  met  by  the  others.  This  had  been  going  on  for  a 
few  years ;  but  now  that  the  United  Irishmen  had  got  strong  enough 


(?  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  267 

to  command  respect,  and  to  overpower  the  others,  some  of  them 
wanted  permission  to  force  the  other  party  to  join  them — to  actu- 
ally beat  them  into  the  ranks  of  the  Irish  revolutionary  army.  Ned 
Duffy  and  I  would  not  allow  it ;  we  counselled  peace,  and  told  them 
their  forbearance  in  their  strengtli  would  have  a  better  effect,  that 
it  was  better  to  use  persuasion  than  force,  that  there  were  many 
good  men  at  the  other  side,  and  instanced  the  case  of  themselves, 
who  were  bitterly  hostile  to  joining  at  first,  but  who  were  now  ar- 
dent workers  in  the  good  cause.  There  was  nothing  preventing 
any  one  of  them  from  being  a  member  of  both  societies.  There 
was,  however,  one  difference — that  the  other  was  got  up  to  defend 
the  people  from  aggression,  while  ours  had  the  object  of  making 
war  on  the  aggressors  and  destroying  their  rule  in  the  country. 
We  admitted  to  our  brotherhood  all  Irishmen,  of  every  class  and 
creed,  who  would  swear  to  fight  for  the  independence  of  their  na- 
tive land ;  they  admitted  to  theirs  only  members  of  a  particular 
creed.  They  were  sectarian  and  defensive  against  the  enemy ;  we 
were  national  and  agressive — organizing  our  means  to  fight. 

All  seemed  pleased  with  our  interview,  and  it  was  satisfactory 
to  learn  shortly  afterwards  that  the  two  societies  were  working  har- 
moniously together. 

Edward  Duffy  was  this  time — March,  '65—  in  delicate  health ; 
yet  he  traveled  night  and  day,  and  was  up  late  and  early.  His 
heart  was  in  his  work,  and  to  see  it  prospering  sustained  him.  One 
night  we  were  passing  by  his  mother's  house.  "  Hold,"  said  he  to 
the  driver,  "there  is  light  in  the  window;  they  are  up  yet,  and  we'll 
go  in."  The  mother  kissed  him,  saying,  "  Eddy,  won't  you  stay 
with  me  to  night  ?" 

"  No,  mother,  I  have  to  be  in  Balla  at  a  certain  hour." 
"Oh,  you'll  kill  yourself." 
"Not  yet  awhile,  mother.     Good-bye." 

They  kissed  each  other  again,  we  mounted  our  jaunting-car  and 
went  to  meet  the  boys,  who  had  word  of  our  coming. 

I  had  a  look  at  Edward  Duffy  once  while  I  was  in  Millbank.  It 
was  the  time  I  was  allowed  to  go  to  chapel,  and  I  saw  him  one 
Sunday  morning  going  to  Communion.  I  would  give  anything  to 
have  his  eye  catch  mine,  but  he  never  raised  his  head  going  to  the 
altar  or  coming  from  it.  He  had  somewhat  of  a  stoop  in  his  car- 
riage, and  looked  as  if  the  treatment  was  bending  him  to  the  ground. 
When  his  last  days  were  approaching,  an  officer  of  the  prison  told 
me  that  Duffy  would  like  very  much  to  have  a  talk  with  me  ;  there 
was  no  way  of  having  it  by  signals,  as  he  was  in  hospital,  and  I  in 
punishment ;  but  I  said  to  myself  I  would  do  all  in  my  power  to 
gratify  a  dying  wish  of  his,  and  I  had  my  name  taken  down  by  the 
officer  to  see  the  Director  the  next  day  he  would  visit  the  prison, 
and  when  he  came  I  was  brought  before  him. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  now?" 

"There  is  a  prisoner  here  named  Edward  Duffy;  he  knows  my 
family,  and  as  he  is  only  lately  arrived" 


V68  (?  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  Governor,  I  knew  it,  and"- 


"  Is  it  permission  to  see  him  you  want  ?" 

"  Yes,  he" 

"  Certainly  not,  you  can't  see  any  other  prisoner  here ;  it  is  against 
the  rules ;  that  will  do." 

The  "  that  will  do"  was  addressed  to  the  officers,  and  they  im- 
mediately gave  me  the  order  of  right-about-face.  But  I  stood  and 
pressed  my  appeal,  thus — "  I  beg  pardon,  one  moment.  It  is  six 
months  ago  since  I  had  a  visit.  There  is  one  due  to  me  now,  and 
you  sent  a  ticket  to  Mr.  Pigott  the  other  day,  but  stopped  it  again. 
Now,  if  you  let  me  see  Edward  Duffy  in  the  presence  of  the  officers, 
I  will  not  ask  another  visit  for  six  months." 

"  You  cannot  see  Edward  Duffy — it  is  out  of  the  question,  and 
there  is  no  visit  due  to  you,  for  you  have  forfeited  it  by  your  bad 
conduct." 

I  again  got  the  order  to  march  out,  and  if  my  morals  would  al- 
low me  to  curse,  I  could  say,  mentally  at  least,  "  Oh,  sweet  bad  luck 
to  you." 

Within  my  own  memory,  the  English  newspapers  made  a  great 
sensation  of  a  story  about  two  comrades,  Poles,  who  were  confined 
in  a  prison  in  St.  Petersburg;  one  of  them  was  dying,  and  expressed 
a  wish  to  see  the  other  and  would  not  be  allowed ;  he  died  with- 
out this  little  consolation  being  vouchsafed  to  him,  and  the  English 
press  was  horrified  at  "  the  Russian  barbarity."  But  here  was  an 
identically  similar  case — occurring  in  the  heart  of  London,  under 
the  nose  of  the  Queen,  and  under  the  nose  of  her  Ministers,  Lords, 
and  Commons,  and  under  the  nose  of  all  the  pious  Tract  and  Bible 
Societies  that  send  missioners  to  humanize  barbarous  Russians  and 
inhuman  savages.  In  the  eyes  of  England  it  was  not,  perhaps,  a 
similar  case,  inasmuch  as  she  conceded  to  the  Poles  the  right  to 
rebel,  while  she  considers  the  Irishman  who  rebels  against  such  a 
pious,  paternal  government  as  hers,  unworthy  of  the  name  or  treat- 
ment of  a  human  being. 

Wasn't  I  raging  with  passion  at  the  hypocrisy  of  those  Pharisees 
the  Sunday  Edward  Duffy  lay  in  the  prison  dead-house,  to  hear  one 
of  those  missioners  from  the  tract  societies  preaching  outside  my 
cell  door.  I  candidly  admit  that  I  was  more  inclined  to  curse  than 
to  pray.  The  punishment  prisoners  get  no  religious  service.  They 
are  not  allowed  to  chapel,  and  on  Sunday  one  of  these  itinerant 
Scripture-readers  is  allowed  into  prison  to  preach  to  them.  The 
cell  doors  are  opened,  and  the  gates  left  closed.  My  door  and  gate 
both  were  left  shut  in  consequence  of  my  being  registered  as  a 
Catholic,  but  I  heard  the  preaching. 

Ned  Duffy's  death,  following  close  upon  the  news  of  Mike 
O'Brien's,  threw  me  into  a  melancholy  mood,  and  for  days  I  lay 
stretched  on  the  flat  of  my  back  traveling,  with  my  eyes  closed, 
through  the  ups  and  downs  of  life,  and  the  queer  ways  of  the 


O ) Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life,  269 

world.  I  got  my  bed  at  night,  and  when  I  could  not  sleep  I  turned 
my  thoughts  to  rhyming.  Let  not  the  critics  be  hypercritical  at  my 
coming  in  here  with  the  few  verses  I  made — 

NED  DUFFY. 

The  world  is  growing  darker  to  me — darker  day  by  day, 
The  stars  that  shone  upon  life's  path  are  vanishing  away, 
Some  setting  and  some  shifting,  only  one  that  changes  never, 
'Tis  the  guiding  star  of  liberty  that  blazes  bright  as  ever. 

Liberty  sits  mountain  high,  and  slavery  has  birth 
In  the  hovels,  in  the  marshes,  in  the  lowest  dens  of  earth ; 
The  tyrants  of  the  world  pitfall-pave  the  path  between, 
And  o'ershadow  it  with  scaffold,  prison,  block  and  guillotine. 

The  gloomy  way  is  brightened  when  we  walk  with  those  we  love, 
The  heavy  load  is  lightened  when  we  bear  and  they  approve  ; 
The  path  of  life  grows  darker  to  me  as  I  journey  on, 
For  the  truest  hearts  that  travelled  it  are  falling  one  by  one. 

The  news  of  death  is  saddening  even  in  festive  hall, 
But  when  'tis  heard  through  prison  bars,  'tis  saddest  then  of  all, 
Where  there's  none  to  share  the  sorrow  in  the  solitary  cell, 
In  the  prison,  within  prison — a  blacker  hell  in  hell. 

That  whisper  through  the  grating  has  thrilled  through  all  my  veins, 
"  Duffy  is  dead  !"  a  noble  soul  has  slipped  the  tyrant's  chains, 
And  whatever  wounds  they  gave  him,  their  lying  books  will  show, 
How  they  very  kindly  treated  him,  more  like  a  friend  than  foe. 

For  these  are  Christain  Pharisees,  the  hypocrites  of  creeds, 
With  the  Bible  on  their  lips,  and  the  deVil  in  their  deeds, 
Too  merciful  in  public  gaze  to  take  our  lives  away, 
Too  anxious  here  to  plant  in  us  the  seed  of  life's  decay. 

Those  Christians  stand  between  us  and  the  God  above  our  head, 
The  sun  and  moon  they  prison,  and  withhold  the  daily  bread, 
Entomb,  enchain,  and  starve  us,  that  the  mind  they  may  control, 
And  quench  the  fire  that  burns  in  the  ever  living  soul. 

To  lay  your  head  upon  the  block  for  faith  in  Freedom's  God, 
To  fall  in  fight  for  Freedom  in  the  land  your  fathers  trod  ; 
For  Freedom  on  the  scaffold  high  to  breath  your  latest  breath, 
Or  anywhere  'gainst  tyranny  is  dying  a  noble  death. 

Still  sad  and  lone  was  yours,  Ned,  'mid  the  jailers  of  your  rare, 
With  none  to  press  the  cold  white  hand,  with  none  to  smooth  tk«  face; 
With  none  to  take  the  dying  wish  to  homeland  friend,  or  brother, 
To  kindred  mind,  to  promised  bride,  or  to  the  sorrowing  mother. 

I  tried  to  get  to  speak  to  you  before  you  passed  away, 
As  you  were  dying  so  near  me,  and  so  far  from  Castlerea, 
But  the  Bible-mongers  spurned  me  off,  when  at  their  office  door 
I  asked  last  month  to  see  you — now  I'll  never  see  you  more. 

If  spirits  once  released  from  earth  could  visit  earth  again, 
You'd  come  and  see  me  here,  Ned,  but  for  these  we  look  in  vain  ; 
In  the  dead-house  you  are  lying,  ana  I'd  "wake"  you  if  I  could, 
But  they'll  wake  you  in  Loughlin,  Ned,  in  that  cottage  by  the  wood 


270  O' ^  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life. 

For  the  mother's  instinct  tells  her  that  the  dearest  one  is  dead — 
That  the  gifted  mind,  the  noble  soul,  from  earth  to  heaven  is  fled, 
As  the  girls  rush  towards  the  door  and  look  towards  the  trees, 
To  catch  the  sorrow-laden  wail,  that's  borne  on  the  breeze. 

Thus  the  path  of  life  grows  darker  to  me — darker  day  by  day, 
The  stars  that  flashed  their  light  on  it  are  vanishing  away, 
Some  setting  and  some  shifting,  but  that  one  which  changes  never, 
The  beacon  light  of  liberty  that  blazes  bright  as  ever. 

I  had  completed  my  poetry  and  my  fourteen  days'  punishment  at 
the  same  time,  and  I  was  in  the  expectation  of  being  allowed  the 
light  and  diet  of  an  ordinary  cell ;  but  no,  that  was  not  for  me  yet. 
I  was  hauled  up  before  the  Director  and  got  fourteen  days  more 
for  not  doing  any  work  the  previous  fourteen. 

Brooding  over  this  subject  of  perpetual  punishment,  I  thought  it 
was  better  to  bring  it  on  hot  and  heavy,  and  as  they  were  worry- 
ing me,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  worrying 
them.  When  Gambier  was  giving  me  this  last  sentence  an  army 
officer  was  standing  by  him  with  his  sword  drawn.  He  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  soldiers  who  were  guarding  the  prison,  and  these  were 
all  round  the  pentagon  in  which  I  and  the  other  Irish  prisoners  were 
confined.  When  I  got  my  hour's  exercise  that  day,  I  resolved  to 
break  all  the  windows  of  the  officers'  residences  that  I  could.  These 
were  common  glass  and  within  easy  distance  of  me.  As  I  walked 
around  my  little  yard  I  picked  up  every  piece  of  mortar  and  pebble 
that  was  large  enough  to  do  execution,  and  threw  them  into  one 
corner. 

As  I  was  to  go  about  it  at  all,  I  resolved  to  do  the  thing  well  •, 
it  would  be  mean  and  petty  to  break  only  one  or  two  panes,  and  t 
was  making  preparations  to  make  a  clean  job  of  it.  I  would  make 
a  noise,  anyway,  and  I  thought  by  this  act  I  would  be  helping  an 
exposure  of  our  treatment,  for  many  of  the  soldiers  knew  me  and 
would  speak  of  the  matter  outside,  the  officers  would  tell  their 
wives,  and  so  forth.  All  these  things  passing  through  my  mind  led 
me  to  the  act,  but  I  never  committed  it,  as  I  was  arrested  in  my 
preparations.  It  was  necessary  to  resort  to  some  means  to  prevent 
the  officers  from  rushing  in  immediately  after  I  had  broken  the  first 
pane,  and  I  proceeded  to  stuff  the  keyhole  with  little  pebbles.  As 
I  was  doing  this  I  was  noticed  and  my  game  was  spoiled.  I  was 
taken  to  my  cell,  and  the  next  time  I  got  exercise  there  was  not  a 
pebble  in  the  yard,  and  the  officer  stood  at  the  door. 

About  seven  days  of  these  fourteen  had  passed  when  I  found 
myself  taken  to  a  first-class  punishment  cell,  and  I  got  four  ounces 
of  meat  for  dinner.  I  got  porridge  for  supper  with  my  bread,  and 
in  the  morning  three-quarters  of  a  pint  of  cocoa.  I  asked  the  offi- 
cer what  it  meant,  and  he  could  not  tell  me.  I  was  getting  the 
regular  working  diet,  and  yet  they  wouid  not  put  me  in  a  regular 
working  cell  or  let  me  go  to  chapel.  But  here  is  what  it  meant,  as 
I  barned  a  few  weeks  afterwards. 


0' *  Donovan  Bosso'b  Prison  Life.  271 

This  very  day  that  the  change  was  made  in  my  condition  in 
Millbank,  another  change  was  made  in  the  condition  of  nine  prisoners 
in  Chatham,  but  while  my  change  was  for  the  better,  theirs  was  for 
the  worse.  They  were  nine  men  of  "good  character;"  they  were 
within  a  year  or  so  of  their  liberation ;  they  had  earned  all  their 
remission  and  conformed  quietly  to  the  requirements  of  discipline. 

Yet  were  they,  this^  day  I  speak  of,  taken  from  their  ordinary 
cells,  where  they  had  plenty  of  light  and  a  hammock-bed  to  lie  on, 
and  placed  in  the  punishment  cells,  where  they  had  little  light  and 
were  compelled  to  lie  on  the  hard  boards.  The  change  was  a 
mystery  to  them,  but  they  dared  not  complain,  as  they,  each  of 
them,  would  risk  the  loss  of  the  few  years'  remission  they  had  earned 
by  "good  conduct." 

There  were  ten  punishment  cells  in  the  ward  in  which  they  were 
located,  and  the  puzzle  to  them  was,  till  I  came,  why  it  was  that 
the  tenth  was  left  vacant.  This  .vas  left  for  me  to  occupy  a  week 
after,  and  these  men  were  thus  ill-treated  to  pave  the  way  for  my 
further  ill-treatment,  and  to  render  it  impossible  for  me  to  say 
I  had  been  treated  exceptionally.  Such  mean  dodging,  such  petty 
subterfuges  were  resorted  to  for  the  purpose  of  tormenting  me,  I 
can  give  no  idea  of;  and  when  you  bear  in  mind  that  the  dodgers 
were  English  Prime  Ministers,  Secretaries  of  State,  and  Prison  Di- 
rectors, you  may  well  say  England  is  capable  of  anything. 

The  last  week  I  had  was  a  pleasant  one,  as  I  could  look  out  of 
my  window  and  see  the  prisoners  exercising.  John  Devoy  was  in  a 
corner  cell  two  stories  below  me,  and  we  conld  speak  to  each  other 
without  raising  our  voices  very  high.  We  were  whispering  one 
morning  during  breakfast  hour,  and  we  noticed  there  was  some 
unusual  stir.  We  saw  a  few  prisoners  taken  from  this  yard,  a  few 
from  that,  and  we  decided  there  was  a  transfer  of  convicts  to 
the  Public  Works.  As  we  were  making  speculations  as  to 
when  a  change  would  come  for  us  my  door  was  opened  ;  I  was 
ordered  out ;  and  irons  were  ready  for  me.  In  a  minute's  time  I  was 
bound  and  on  my  way  to  a  coach  which  was  in  waiting.  Big  Power 
and  two  other  big  warders  entered  the  carriage  with  me,  each  of 
them  wearing  a  belt  in  which  were  stuck  a  short  sword  and  revolver. 
The  prison  gate  opened  before  us;  we  drove  through  London  for 
half  an  hour,  and  I  found  myself  transferred  to  a  railroad  carriage. 
The  four  of  us  had  a  compartment  to  ourselves  ;  big  £  ower  feeling 
he  had  me  well  secured  began  to  get  jolly,  and  talked  about  ray  skill 
in  providing  myself  with  writing  material. 

"  Rossa,  you  can  write  with  anything ;  but  now  we  are 
going  to  a  place  where  they  make  the  closest  search  possible, 
and  if  you  have  anything  about  you,  just  fling  it  out  through  the 
window,  and  don't  give  it  to  them  to  say  that  we  didn't  do  our 
duty." 

"  Ah,  Governor,  there's  no  fear  but  you  did  your  duty  by  me. 
but  if  you  did  it  by  your  own  colsoLucc  I  don't  envy  you ;  I  h*vt» 


272  0^  Donovan  Rosso) 8  Prison  Life. 

nothing  about  me  that  will  bring  you  into  trouble,  but  where  are  we 
going  to,  may  I  ask  ?" 

"  You'll  soon  know,"  and  as  he  spoke  the  train  slackened  speed. 
I  heard  "  Chatham  "  cried  out ;  I  was  conducted  to  the  platform, 
where  other  armed  men  shook  hands  with  my  traveling  companions ; 
two  coaches  were  obtained,  and  in  another  half  hour  I  found  myself 
inside  the  gates  of  Chatham  Prison,  and  never  saw  the  outside  of 
them  till  three  years  after, 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


RECEPTION   IN    CHATHAM 1    MUST   LEAEN     DEILL     OR     GO     TO    "  JILLI- 

GUM  " ASSOCIATION  WITH  THIEVES STONE  BREAKING WHEEL- 
ING   RUBBISH YOKED    TO    A    CART LIGHT   WORK,  LIGHT  WAGES, 

AND  LIGHT  DIET "  COS  "  AND  "  JOBLER" PRATT A  PRISON  SPY 

1     SMASH    MY    WINDOW REFUSE     TO    PAY    SALAAMS REV.    MR. 

DUKE,    PROTESTANT    CHAPLAIN A    CEDAR — COSGROVE    PUNISHED 

AND  DEGRADED  ON  MY  ACCOUNT 1  LEARN  THE  PRISON  "  SLANG  " 

BEARLA     GAR     NA     SAOR MADE    AN    ACCESSORY    TO     THEFT 

SCOTTY's"  PRESBYTERIANISM "I'LL   MAKE    SOME  ONE  PAY  FOR 


"SCOTTY's"  PRESBYTERIANISM "f 

THIS   YET" "AH,  GET  OUT" "INSOLENCE  AND  IRREVERENCE" 

AT   CHAPEL RICHARD     O'SULLIVAN     BURKE    AND    AND     HENRY    S, 

MULLEDA — AN  ESCAPE  FROM  HAVING  MY  NECK  CRACKED — I 
"STRIKE" — THROW  MY  HAMMER  OVER  THE  WALL — FIVE  WARD- 
ERS    HOLD     ME      SALAAMING     THE     GOVERNOR He'd     TREAT     ME 

WITH  CONTEMPT MY  RESOLUTION,  MY  PRAYER,  AND  MY  "  SA- 
LUTE"  TO   THE    GOVERNOR SATISFACTION HANDS  TIED  BEHIND 

MY   BACK     35      DAYS BLOODY    WRISTS "  BLOOD     FOR    BLOOD  " 

THE     PURSUIT     OF     KNOWLEDGE     UNDER     DIFFICULTIES FATHER 

O'SULLIVAN THE     DESTRUCTION     OF     POPERY    IN    1866— A    BOOK 

OUT     OF     DATE DIRECTOR    DU     CANE GIVING       TIT    FOR     TAT — 

I    BREAK    UP    THE    SPECIAL    PARTY "  JOBLER's  "  GOOD-BYE — THE 

THIEVES'    KINDNESS FLOGGING    PRISONERS MEET    RICK    BURKE 

AND    HARRY    MULLEDA MY    SENTENCE     READ RELEASED     FROM 

IRONS. 

My  new  guardians  conducted  me  to  the  wing  of  the  building  I 
was  to  have  my  apartments  in,  and  as  soon  as  I  entered  one  of  them 
cried  out,  "Turn  your  face  to  the  wall"     My  blood  stirred,  but  I 


C*  Donovan  Rosso? $  Prison  Life,  27;3 

pulled  the  rein  and  kept  it  down  to  its  accustomed  motion.  Bye- 
and-bye  I  was  measured,  weighed,  stripped,  searched,  bathed,  re- 
dressed, shaven,  shorn,  and  entered  on  the  books.  Principal  Warder 
Alison  got  special  charge  of  me,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he 
should  read  me  a  lecture.  He  told  me  I  came  here  with  a  pretty 
bad  character,  but  he  hoped  I  would  become  an  altered  man,  and  I 
told  him  I  considered  myself  pretty  well  altered  already. 

"  You  should  see,"  said  I,  "  what  a  handsome  man  I  was  when 
I  was  in  the  world."  And  you,  reader,  should  see  the  confused 
look  he  gave.  The  words  entirely  disconcerted  him  in  the  lec- 
ture he  was  giving  me,  and  he  changed  the  subject  to  that  of 
"Drill." 

"  Do  you  know  your  drill  ?" 

*  Drill,"  cried  I,  with  an  alarmed  look,  as  I  darted  a  pace  back. 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  drill  ?" 

"Did  they  drill  you  in  Millbank?" 

"  Oh,  Governor,  you  may  say  they  did ;  I  hope  you  are  not  going 
to  drill  me  so  here." 

"  See,  Rossa,  what  I  mean  is  this — this  is  a  military  prison,  and 
you  have  to  pay  particular  attention  to  the  military  orders  given, 
and  be  very  particular  in  obeying  them.  We  are  more  exact  about 
that  than  anything  else,  and  any  negligence  of  duty  on  your  part 
will  be  punished  severely." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  I'll  be  punished  here  if  I  don't 
know  my  drill  ?" 

"Certainly,  yes." 

"  Why,  Governor,  that's  the  very  thing  I'm  transported  for — for 
trying  to  learn  my  drill." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  when  I  and  my  friends  were  on  trial,  the  English 
Government  brought  up  people  to  swear  against  us  that  we  were 
guilty  of  the  crime  of  trying  to  learn  drill,  and  are  you  going  to  tell 
me  now  that  I  am  to  be  punished  further  here  in  England  if  I  don't 
know  it?" 

"  Now,  I  tell  you  that  you'll  have  to  obey  orders  here,  or,  if  you 
do  not,  there's  a  place  convenient  called  Jilligum,  and  you'll  very 
soon  find  your  way  to  it,"  and  saying  this  he  marched  me  off  to  my 
cell. 

It  was  ten  feet  by  seven.  I  saw  my  bedstead  nailed  to  the 
ground,  and  the  pillow  of  it  raised  four  inches  high ;  the  bedclothes 
were  folded,  and  lay  on  a  thin  straw  mattress  which  was  also  fold- 
ed. My  table  was  a  small  board  imbedded  in  an  angle  of  the  wall, 
and  my  stool  was  two  feet  high,  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  fastened  to 
the  floor  alongside  of  the  table. 

There  was  again  that  detestable  metal  screen  to  darken  my 
abode,  with  the  little  holes  in  it  to  admit  as  much  light  as  would 
enable  me  to  see  my  misery. 


274  O^  Donovan  Rosea? s  Prison  Life. 

My  dinner  was  brought  to  me  and  I  ate  it  with  avidity,  and  af- 
ter dinner  I  was  taken  out  to  have  an  hour's  exercise.  Warder 
Thompson  had  charge  of  me,  and  gave  me  a  broom  to  sweep  up  the 
exercise  yard.  Prisoners  when  at  exercise  here  get  nothing  to  do, 
and  I  knew  this  task  was  given  to  me  to  try  my  temper.  I  swept 
away,  and  as  the  officer  asked  me  some  question  I  asked  him  in  re- 
turn, pc  inting  towards  them,  "  Are  not  those  punishment  cells  ?" 
He  shook  his  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  cannot  answer  such  a 
question." 

I  got  a  sheet  of  paper  the  second  day  to  write  the  reception  let- 
ter. I  wrote  it  to  my  wife,  and  next  day  I  was  told  the  letter  would 
not  be  allowed  to  pass  as  I  spoke  about  my  treatment.  The  third 
day  I  was  sent  to  work  with  the  nine  thieves  I  have  already  spoken 
of ;  the  youngest  of  them  was  twenty-six,  and  the  oldest  seventy. 
They  worked  previously  with  all  the  other  prisoners  in  a  place 
called  Mary's  Island,  outside  the  prison  walls. 

In  the  morning  we  were  sent  wheeling  rubbish  from  one  yard  to 
another ;  each  had  his  wheelbarrow,  and  if  I  did  not  fill  up  mine  as 
full  as  the  rest,  Thompson  would  make  me  take  the  shovel  again 
and  lay  more  on.  We  were  allowed  to  talk  moderately.  They 
were  all  anxious  to  know  who  or  what  I  was.  "  Scotty"  was  my 
chief  interlocutor,  and  after  a  few  hours  questioning  me,  he  in 
his  broad  Scotch  exclaimed  to  the  others  as  we  were  shovelling  the 
earth  into  our  barrows — "  Noo  I  haw  it,  heece  a  bawd  characthoor, 
and  we're  sent  here  to  keep  ham  coompany."  I  smiled,  and  they  all 
promised  to  do  what  they  could  for  me,  advising  me  to  keep  quiet. 

After  dinner  we  were  sent  breaking  stones,  the  ten  of  us  in  a 
row ;  each  could  speak  to  the  man  next  to  him,  but  it  was  against 
orders  to  extend  the  conversation  farther. 

I  thought  I  was  going  to  get  on  very  well  here,  but  such  a 
thought  was  soon  driven  out  of  my  head.  My  first  impulse  when 
put  amongst  the  thieves,  was  to  kick  against  association  with  them 
— and  when  I  act  on  first  impulses  I  generally  act  right.  But  on 
this  occasion  I  had  a  little  curiosity  to  learn  what  could  be  learned 
from  these  men,  and  when  I  found  them  telling  me  to  "  cheer  up," 
and  giving  me  words  of  sympathy,  I  determined  to  give  them  a 
trial  and  see  if  I  could  turn  my  position  to  any  advantage. 

I  was  not  long  stone-breaking  when  I  noticed  the  officer's 
special  attention  attracted  toward  me.  I  am  kiotach,  that  is  left- 
handed,  and  working  with  my  hammer  in  that  hand  the  officer  or- 
dered me  to  use  the  other.  I  told  him  I  could  not,  and  he  told  me 
I  should ;  that  I  would  have  to  work  there  the  same  as  any  other 
prisoner.  This  looked  strange  to  me,  and  I  was  Jioping  it  was  not 
an  indication  that  the  screws  were  to  be  put  on  here,  too ;  but  it 
was  hoping  against  hope.  I  saw  two  left-handed  men  come  into  the 
party  two  months  afterwards,  and  this  warder  never  interfered  with 
their  using  the  hammers  with  their  left  hands. 

It  was  awkward  to  me  at  first  to  use  my  right  hand ;  sometimes 


O^  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  275 

I'd  strike  the  block  instead  of  the  stone  ;  and  more  times  I'd  strike 
the  round  loop  of  hoop  iron  with  which  I  held  the  stone  in  a  fixed 
place. 

"  Jobler,"  who  worked  near  me,  told  me  to  strike  easier  until  I 
became  more  dexterous.  "  Your  stroke  is  too  light,"  cried  Thomp- 
son. I  looked  up  to  see  to  whom  he  was  speaking  ;  it  was  to  me, 
and  I  said  nothing,  but  hammered  away.  Ten  minutes  afterward 
"  your  stroke  is  too  light  "  sounded  on  my  ears  again.  I  raised  my 
eyes  and  said  nothing  but  resumed  work. 

Jobler  whispered,  "  Say  nothing,  but  work  away,  he's  on  you," 
and  away  I  worked,  knowing  that  Jobler's  was  the  best  advice  I 
could  get  under  the  circumstances. 

But  what  is  the  use  of  following  good  advice  if  you  are  in  the 
hands  of  a  master  who  will  not  be  pleased  with  the  best  of  good 
work  or  good  conduct  from  you. 

"  Your  stroke  is  too  light,"  came  on  again,  and  Jobler  whispered, 
"  God  help  you,  Rossa." 

"  Your  stroke  is  too  light,"  "  your  stroke  is  too  light,"  "  your 
stroke  is  too  light,"  came  on  four,  five,  six  and  seven  times  without 
my  opening  my  lips  ;  at  last,  in  as  quiet  and  mild  a  tone  as  I  could 
command,  I  replied,  "  Oh,  officer,  the  wages    are  rather  light,  too." 

"  You're  done  for,"  "  you're  done  for,"  whispered  Jobler,  as  he 
struck  his  hammer  successively  on  the  stone. 

The  principal  officer  coming  round  soon  after,  Thompson  had  a 
conversation  with  him,  and  "  Rossa  "  was  called.  I  looked,  and  the 
irate-looking  magnate  motioned  to  me  with  his  sword  to  advance. 
I  went  forward  and  received  a  lecture.  I,  in  giving  an  explanation, 
raised  my  hand  to  illustrate  the  action  of  the  hammer  ;  the  principal 
immediately  raised  his  sword  as  if  he  would  strike,  and  ordered  me 
to  keep  my  hands  by  my  side.  This  raised  the  devil  in  me,  and  to 
the  next  observation  he  made  about  my  "  insolence  and  imperti- 
nence," 1  replied  in  as  scornful  a  tone  as  possible — "  The  prison  rules 
do  not  permit  me  to  be  insolent  to  any  officer,  nor  do  they  permit 
any  officer  to  be  insolent  to  me."  Saying  this  I  gave  him  as  black 
a  look  as  I  could  ;  he  turned  on  his  heel,  telling  Thompson  to  report 
me  when  we  went  into  supper,  and  I  returned  to  my  "  light  stroke." 

That  evening  when  I  entered  my  cell  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to 
unbosom  a  few  scraps  of  old  newspaper  which  Pratt  passed  to  me 
during  the  day. 

I  was  reading  about  two  brothers  named  Desmond  who  were  on 
trial  in  connection  with  that  new  gunpowder  plot  of  Clerkenwell. 
The  key  turned  in  my  door,  I  stuck  the  paper  inside  the  waist  of  my 
trousers  ;  Alison  and  another  officer  entered,  and  ordered  me  to 
strip.  Here  was  I  caught  the  first  day  of  my  noviciate  in  Chatham, 
and  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  preparations  were  made  to  catch  me, 
as  Pratt  who  gave  me  the  scraps  of  newspaper  was  afterwards 
hunted  out  of  the  party  as  being  a  spy  on  them.  When  I  went  out  to 
work  after  being  ten  day3  on  bread  and  water  in  dark  cells,  on  telling 


276  0\ "Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life. 

about  what  Pratt  gave  me,  Cosgrove,  who  was  "  orderly  "  the  eve- 
ning of  the  stripping,  remembered  that  Alison  went  into  Pratt's  cell 
before  he  came  into  mine  to  strip  me. 

I  Avas  put  under  "  report,"  stripped  of  shoes,  handkerchief,  cap, 
stock,  and  braces,  and  next  day  at  twelve  o'clock  I  was  led  into  the 
presence  of  a  slimy-eyed,  sneaky-voiced  gentleman,  and  charged 
with  "idleness"  and  "insolence,"  and  having  prohibited  articles  in 
my  possession.  I  asked  him  if  it  was  insolence  to  tell  the  officer 
when  he  was  worrying  me  with  my  stroke  being  too  light,  that 
"the  wages  were  light  too,"  and  he  said,  "Certainly,  yes."  I  was 
sentenced  to  forty  eight  hours  on  bread  and  water,  fined  a  number 
of  marks,  and  forfeited  my  right  to  write  another  letter  instead  of 
the  one  which  was  suppressed  two  days  before.  Taken  back  to  my 
cell  I  looked  about,  and,  seeing  my  punishment  gutta-percha  pint,  I 
laid  hold  of  it,  and  dashing  it  against  the  thick  gaslight  pane, 
knocked  the  glass  and  the  pint  into  smithereens.  This  was  acting 
on  first  impulse,  which,  as  I  said  before,  was  acting  right.  You 
might  not  have  acted  so,  but  every  man's  mind  is  his  kingdom,  and 
I  believe  I,  in  troublesome  times,  retained  control  of  mine  by  al- 
lowing to  my  subjects — first  impulses — self-government,  or  a  little 
of  the  management  of  their  own  affairs. 

The  noise  of  the  breaking  glass  brought  on  the  warders  immedi- 
ately, and  in  a  few  minutes  I  found  myself  lodged  in  one  of  the 
blackholes.  Here  I  spent  my  forty-eight  hours  with  scanty  food 
by  day  und  scanty  clothes  by  night.  I  was  again  put  under  report 
for  breaking  my  cell  and  my  pint,  and  was  sentenced  to  72  hours 
on  bread  and  water.  I  was  satisfied  that  I  deserved  this  punish- 
ment and  I  went  through  it  quietly,  save  that  I  refused  to  pay  any 
salaams  to  the  Governor  and  other  officers  when  they  came  to  visit. 
"  Doctor,"  said  I  to  Doctor  Burns,  as  he  visited  me  in  one  of  his 
rounds,  "  do  not  think  that  by  refusing  to  pay  salaams  I  mean  any 
personal  disrespect.  I  do  not,  but  I  cannot  be  paying  my  respects 
to  an  authority  that  is  starving  me."  "  Oh,"  said  he,  "  I  don't 
mind,  but  the  discipline  of  the  prison  has  to  be  maintained." 

I  was  lying  on  the  flat  of  my  back  another  time  when  Deputy- 
Governor  Hardy  visited  me.  I  was  undergoing  a  hard  Lenten  fast, 
with  very  little  prospect  of  an  Easter  day  coming  on,  and,  as  the 
lantern  wTas  held  into  the  blackhole,  in  my  grim  humor,  I  said, 
"  Governor,  is  there  any  chance  at  all  of  getting  eggs  for  breakfast 
here,"  and  I  am  reported  for  being  insolent  to  the  Deputy,  and  ask- 
ing him  for  an  "  extra  breakfast."  That  is  the  way  my  jailors  took 
jokes. 

The  Prototant  chaplain,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Duke,  visited  me  daily,  and 
endeavored  to  reason  me  ii  to  "  propriety."  He  spoke  very  kindly, 
and  asked  me  if  I  would  not  grant  him  a  favor.  I  said  I  would,  if 
it  was  in  my  power,  and  then  he  asked  me  to  conform  to  the  custom 
of  the  prison  in  the  matter  of  standing  to  attention  when  the  Gov- 
ernor called.     I   told  him  I  would,  and  I  stood  in  the  middle  of 


0  ^  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  277 

my  cell,  with  my  hands  by  my  side,  the  next  time  Captain  Powell 
appeared.  I  thought  this  settled  matters,  and  that  I  would  be  sent 
out  to  work  when  the  three  days  were  up  ;  but  no,  the  outraged 
authority  had  to  be  vindicated,  and  I  got  three  days  more  for  "  gross 
insolence  and  insubordination." 

Then  I  was  sorry  that  I  had  made  the  promise  to  the  chaplain, 
but  as  I  made  it  I  kept  it,  and  at  the  end  of  ten  days  I  found  myself 
stone-breaking  at  the  side  of  "  Jobler." 

While  I  was  in  confinement.  Cosgrove  became  possessor  of  a  lead 
pencil,  which  he  hid  in  his  cell  for  me.  He  tied  a  bit  of  thread  to  it, 
hitched  the  thread  in  a  corner  of  his  ventilator,  and  then  let  the 
"  cedar  "  fall  in  through  one  of  the  small  holes. 

One  day,  as  we  were  coming  from  dinner,  we  were  halted  in  the 
hall ;  nine  or  ten  officers  were  detailed  into  the  ward,  then  we  were 
stripped  to  the  buff,  but  nothing  was  found. 

I  told  my  story  about  the  piece  of  newspaper  Pratt  gave  me, 
and  then  Cosgrove  swore  out — that  that  scoundrel  Pratt  was  a  spy 
in  the  party. 

He  knew  that  Cosgrove  had  the  pencil,  he  gave  information  to 
Alison,  and  that  is  the  reason  we  were  searched.  Cosgrove  did  not 
escape  ;  he  was  called  away  from  us  an  hour  after  dinner,  his  cell 
having  been  searched  closely,  and  the  pencil  found. 

He  got  forty.eight  hours  on  bread  and  water ;  was  degraded  for 
two  months,  and  lost  some  of  his  remission.  "  Degradation  "  and 
loss  of  remission  to  him  was  something.  He  was  in  the  first  class, 
and  had  roast  meat  for  dinner  and  tea  for  supper,  now  he  had  to  be 
satisfied  with  such  fare  as  I  had — boiled  meat,  and  gruel  instead  of 
tea  for  supper. 

It  was  funny  to  me  to  see  all  the  other  prisoners  getting  tea  in 
the  evening,  while  I  was  brought  a  pint  of  cold  gruel.  I  was  a 
solitary  bad  character  till  Cosgrove  was  reduced  to  my  level,  and 
then  there  were  two  pints  of  gruel  brought  into  the  ward.  Cos- 
grove asserted  that  his  pencil  could  not  be  found  only  that  some 
one  gave  information.  He  charged  Pratt  with  being  the  in- 
former, and  also  charged  him  with  the  worse  offence  of  betraying  a 
stranger  and  a  persecuted  man  by  giving  me  a  newspaper  and  then 
telling  Alison  I  had  it.  He  cursed  him  to  hell  and  damnation,  and 
threatened  he  would  have  his  life. 

None  of  the  party  would  speak  to  Pratt  after  that ;  he  com- 
plained to  the  Governor  he  was  afraid  of  his  life,  and  he  was  taken 
away  from  us.  Though  any  of  these  prisoners  were  not  allowed  to 
associate  with  the  others,  they  were  even  kept  in  a  separate  corner 
by  themselves  when  they  went  to  the  Protestant  Chapel,  yet  they 
managed  by  signs  to  commuuicate  to  the  others  that  Pratt  was  a 
blackleg,  and  such  a  cry  was  raised  against  him  that  he  had  to  be 
sent  to  another  prison. 

There  was  sent  to  us  in  Pratt's  place  a  little  dark-featured  man, 
who  was  a  pattern-maker  from   Bradford,  and   was  undergoing  a 


278  O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

long  sentence  for  burglary.  He  bad  learned  three  or  four  languages 
in  prison,  and  was  otherwise  very  intelligent.  One  day  he  asked 
Jobler  to  change  seata  with  him,  in  order  that  he  might  speak  to 
me.  Jobler  did  so,  and  immediately  Thompson  brought  the  two  of 
them  to  account.  They  told  him  it  was  commonly  done,  and  they 
never  saw  it  prevented  before,  but  he  peremptorily  ordered  them  to 
take  their  own  places  and  stay  there. 

Jobler's  name  was  William  Crane.  He  belonged  to  Hampstead, 
London ;  told  me  he  saw  John  Sadlier  dead  on  the  Heath,  but  did 
not  believe  he  was  John  Sadlier  at  all.  He  entertained  me  with 
stories  about  the  Derby  and  other  great  races,  where  thieves  would 
attend  in  organized  gangs ;  told  me  how  watches  were  "  prigged," 
and  how  other  robberies  were  committed,  but  hoped  I  would  never 
divulge  any  of  those  secrets  of  the  profession  if  I  ever  chanced  to 
get  into  the  world. 

He  and  the  others  would  often  talk  in  professional  slang,  and 
the  secret  of  that  he  would  not  tell  me,  but,  from  my  constantly 
listening  and  observing  the  result  of  the  conversation,  I  at  last  hit 
upon  the  key,  and  he  was  very  much  surprised  when  one  day  I  told 
him  something  in  slang. 

Cosgrove  was  the  recognized  head  of  the  party ;  he  was  as  well 
built  and  as  handsome  a  man  as  one  would  wish  to  see ;  he  served 
in  the  English  militia,  and  was  now  serving  her  Majesty  on  account 
of  committing  a  burglary  in  Nottingham.  He  was  the  only  man  of 
the  party  I  made  freedom  with.  I  used  to  call  him  "  Cos,"  but 
used  to  "  mister"  the  others  whenever  I  had  any  occasion  to  speak 
to  them.  Our  work  inside  the  walls  was  varied.  We  piled  brick, 
piled  timber,  emptied  lime  carts,  and  all  the  other  carts  that  brought 
material  into  the  yard. 

If  "  Cos"  ever  caught  me  behind  a  pile,  out  of  the  officer's  view, 
he'd  go  on  with  tricks  of  jugglery,  and  he  often  made  mo  laugh 
heartily  at  pretending  to  swallow  stones  and  bricks.  He  one  day 
made  me  accessory  to  an  attempt  at  theft.  We  were  tearing  down 
an  old  shed,  in  which  one  of  the  officers  had  an  office.  "  Cos  "  and 
I  were  on  the  top  of  the  shed,  tearing  the  boards,  and  Jobler  and 
Andrews  were  taking  them  away ;  he  saw  a  coat  belonging  to  one 
of  the  warders  hanging  below  in  the  office. 

"  By  Gollies,"  said  he,  "there  may  be  a  pencil  or  a  piece  of  to- 
bacco ii  that."  He  signaled  to  Jobler,  and,  telling  him  to  be  on 
the  watch  on  one  side,  told  me  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  other,  and 
cough  if  Thompson  was  coming  around.  He  then  jumped  down,  and 
was  up  in  a  minute  again,  cursing  the  old  coat  because  there  was 
nothing  in  the  pockets. 

These  three  months  of  my  prison  life  were  not  at  all  uninterest- 
ing, and  I  had  plenty  of  variety,  because  there  was  not  a  week 
passed  that  I  had  not  a  day  or  two  on  bread  and  water. 

Besides  the  punishment  that  came  to  me  from  the  desire  of  the 
authorities  to  keep  me  in  hot  water,  I  gave  myself  three  days  in  the 


O' 'Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  279 

cells  every  month.  This  was  as  a  kind  of  protest  against  working 
in  association  with  thieves — a  kind  of  compromise  to  keep  myself 
all  right  between  my  convict  duty  and  my  conviction. 

As  I  was  by  myself  I  did  not  fear  I  was  showing  a  bad  example; 
but  if  any  more  of  my  fellow  treason-felony  prisoners  came  after  me 
it  would  be  stated  by  the  authorities  that  I  was  in  association  with 
English  prisoners,  and  never  refused  to  work  with  them. 

The  authorities  did  a  very  wrong  thing  in  the  way  they  acted 
when  I  was  kept  in  the  cells. 

While  the  prisoners  were  never  allowed  outside  the  wall  that 
surrounded  the  building  when  I  worked  with  them,  every  day  that 
I  was  kept  in  punishment  they  were  taken  out.  They  were  thus 
given  to  understand  that  their  rigorous  treatment  was  owing 
to  my  presence,  and  if  relieved  of  me  they  were  relieved  of 
the  extra  vigilance  and  confinement  that  made  the  time  more  than 
usually  miserable.  Several  of  them  applied  to  the  Governor  to 
be  sent  back  to  the  ordinary  part  of  the  prison,  and  only  one 
succeeded. 

This  was  "  Scotty,"  and  he  went  a  cunning  way  about  it.  When 
all  other  resources  failed,  he  suddenly  discovered  that  he  was  a 
Presbyterian,  and  that  he  should  by  right  attend  the  Presbyterian 
service  instead  of  the  Episcopalian.  He  sent  for  the  Presbyterian 
clerg  yman,  and  told  him  he  wished  to  attend  his  own  place  of 
worship  in  future. 

These  nine  men  were  taken  to  the  Protestant  Church  every 
morning,  and  closely  watched,  lest  they  should  have  any  communi- 
cation with  any  of  the  other  prisoners.  To  take  "  Scotty  "  by  him- 
self to  another  congregation  would  require  another  guard,  and  it 
was  easier  to  remove  him  from  the  party  than  have  so  much 
trouble  He  was,  therefore,  sent  away  and  a  Protestant  taken  in 
his  place. 

I  was  breaking  stones  one  day,  along  with  the  youngest  man  of 
the  party,  and  Thompson  challenged  both  of  us  for  being  rather 
idle. 

He  kept  talking  to  the  Englishman  a  long  time,  and  evidently 
worried  him  much.  The  latter  never  said  a  word,  but  when  Thomp- 
son moved  off  he  turned  his  head  to  me  and  said :  "  By  Christ,  I'll 
make  some  one  pay  for  this  yet."  That  is,  when  his  time  was  up, 
and  when  he'd  go  out  into  the  world,  he  would  have  satisfaction  off 
of  society  for  the  humiliation  he  was  subjected  to  in  prison. 

And  I  found  this  was  not  an  uncommon  thing  in  the  minds  of 
convicts. 

'Tis  a  sad  kind  of  reformation,  but  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  be- 
cause the  first  element  of  discipline  to  be  learned  by  these  prisoners 
is  that  manhood  is  to  be  trampled  under  foot,  and  that  you  are  not 
to  have  any  mind  or  will  of  your  own  no  more  than  the  brute  with 
the  bit  in  his  mouth,  whose  movements  are  guided  by  the  driver 
pulling  the  reins. 


280  0  ''Donovan  Bosstfs  Prison  Life. 

I  did  not  take  the  officer's  Teproofs  as  silently  as  the  Englishman. 
I  told  him  if  he  did  not  consider  I  was  doing  enough  of  v/ork  he 
could  report  me  to  the  Governor,  but  I  did  not  want  his  abuse. 

Next  day  I  got  two  days  on  bread  and  water  for  my  "  insolence." 
I  asked  the  Governor  if  he  really  considered  what  I  said  "  insolence," 
and  he  said  he  had  not  the  least  doubt  of  it. 

Following  close  on  this,  I  was  "  insolent "  again  under  the  fol- 
lowing circumstances : — 

When  we  leave  our  beds  in  the  morning,  the  officer  lights  the 
gas,  and  leaves  it  lighting  until  the  breakfast  is  served.  When  the 
gas  is  turned  off,  there  may  be  light  enough  in  an  ordinary  cell,  but 
in  our  punishment  cells  there  is  very  little  light.  I  made  a  special 
application  to  the  Governor  on  this  head,  and  he  gave  me  to  under- 
stand the  gas  would  be  left  burning  in  our  cells  after  it  was 
turned  off  in  the  rest  of  the  prison.  Next  morning,  when  the  gas 
was  turned  off,  and  darkness  came  across  the  page  of  the  book  I  was 
reading,  I  rung  the  bell,  and  the  officer  coming,  asked  what  I  wanted. 
"  I  want  a  light,"  said  I. 

:      "  You  have  the  same  light  as  any  other  prisoner."     "  I  have  not, 
for  I  am  in  a  dark  cell." 

"You  have  the  same  light  as  any  other  prisoner  in  the  ward." 

"  That  is  nothing.  This  is  a  punishment  ward,  and  as  we  are  not 
supposed  to  be  under  punishment,  we  ought  to  be  allowed  as  much 
light  as  would  enable  us  to  read,  as  all  the  prisoners  are  allowed." 

"  Now,  you  had  better  shut  up,  and  not  be  making  noise,  or  if 
you  do  not,  you'll  soon  find  yourself  in  a  darker  cell."  Then  he 
moved  away,  and  as  he  was  going  down  stairs,  he  kept  talking  at 
me,  "as  if  I  was  better  than  any  other  prisoner,  and  as  if  he  didn't 
know  who  I  was,"  &c,  to  all  of  which  I  said — "  Ah,  get  out." 

Next  day  I  was  up  before  the  Governor,  charged  with  this  "  inso- 
lence," and  Snell,  the  officer,  denied  he  ever  said  a  word  to  me, 
and  that  my  hurling  the  "  get  out"  at  him  was  quite  unprovoked. 
I  asked  the  Governor  if  he  would  examine  the  prisoners  next  to 
me,  for  they  all  heard  the  fellow  scolding,  but  the  Governor  said 
he  could  not  take  the  word  of  a  prisoner  against  that  of  an  officer, 
and  I  got  my  forty-eight  hours  for  my  "  insolence." 

"  Irreverence  at  chapel"  was  another  of  the  heinous  crimes  put 
on  record  against  me  on  those  prison  books.  Two  strange  men 
were  taken  before  me  to  chapel  one  Sunday.  They  came  out  of  my 
ward,  and  they  turned  out  to  be  Harry  S.  Mulleda  and  Ricard 
O'Sullivan  Burke,  who  were  convicted  on  a  charge  of  purchasing 
arms  in  England.  The  chapel  door  was  not  open  as  we  arrived  at 
it.  Rick  Burke  attempted  to  give  a  look  at  me  some  four  paces 
behind  him,  and  he  was  immediately  ordered  to  look  to  his  front. 

Our  chapel  this  time  was  a  hall  of  the  prison,  with  cells  at  each 
side.  Every  prisoner  brought  his  own  stool  with  him,  but  we  had 
no  stools,  and  we  had  to  take  them  out  of  the  adjacent  cells.  When 
I  was  placed  in  position  I  found  myself  in  a  line  of  one,  removed  at 


O^  Donovan  Hossofs  Prison  Life.  281 

a  respectful  distance  from  the  line  of  five  or  six.  Sitting  behind  me 
were  the  two  strangers.  How  to  get  a  look  at  their  faces  was  the 
question,  and  getting  it  was  the  "  irreverence."  I  was  sitting  on 
my  stool  while  the  priest  was  preaching.  When  I  had  to  kneel 
down,  I  had  to  move  backwards,  keeping  my  face  towards  the 
altar ;  but,  instead  of  doing  this,  I  gracefully  turned  around  the 
stool,  so  that  my  sight  would  sweep  over  the  faces  of  the  two  men 
behind  me.  I  did  not  recognize  either  of  them.  When  I  went 
back  to  my  cell  I  was  ordered  to  put  out  my  broom,  and  the  next 
day  I  was  ordered  the  two  days'  punishment  for  looking  at  my 
friends. 

"  Jobler  "  tried  to  know  for  me  who  were  the  two  new  prisoners. 
He  used  to  scrub  the  passage-way  outside  of  the  cells,  and,  getting 
a  chance  for  whispering,  he  questioned  them  as  to  who  and 
what  they  were.  He  had  the  news  for  me  the  next  time  I  went  to 
work,  and  then  I  said  it  was  time  for  me  to  make  up  my  mind  to 
stop  working  altogether  in  my  party.  They  were  sent  on  to  Chat- 
ham for  the  purpose  of  drafting  them  into  my  gang  after  they  had 
done  a  little  probation,  and  I  thought  I  would  not  set  them  the  ex- 
ample of  working  in  it.  An  accident  had  like  to  happen  me  one 
day.  I  was  very  near  getting  my  neck  broken,  and  I  availed  my- 
self of  the  event  to  go  before  the  Governor  and  ask  him  to  give  me 
work  in  my  cell,  or  anywhere  that  I  would  not  be  in  association 
with  the  special  class  selected  for  my  company.  This  was  my  ap- 
plication :  "  Governor,  I  was  yesterday  yoked  to  a  cartload  of 
stones.  A  noose  of  the  rope  was  drawn  over  my  neck,  while  two 
prisoners  were  detailed  to  the  back  of  this  cart  to  prevent  it  from 
heeling  over.  But  it  did  heel  over ;  the  shaft  of  it  flew  high  in  the 
air,  and  the  rope  which  was  around  my  breast  was  suddenly  jerked 
away  from  me.  It  was  a  wonder  it  did  not  hitch  on  my  neck;  had 
it  done  so,  it  would  have  ended  my  troubles  with  the  Government; 
in  a  manner  that  would  be  quite  satisfactory  to  you  all.  I  deem  it 
quite  out  of  order  to  place  me  at  labor  in  any  position  where  my 
life  is  endangered,  and  I  now  ask  to  be  removed  from  this  party.  I 
will  pick  oakum,  or  do  anything  that  you  require  of  me,  in  my 
cell." 

Governor — "  I  cannot  place  you  at  any  other  work.  I  am  act- 
ing under  particular  instructions  regarding  you,  and  nothing  is  left 
optional  with  me  to  do  in  your  case ;  if  you  wish,  I  will  lay  your 
application  before  the  Directors,  but  more  I  cannot  do." 

"Very  well,  Governor,  I  will  wait  till  their  decision  can  be 
known." 

Captain  Da  Cane,  Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Directors,  visited 
the  prison  a  few  days  after,  and  I  was  brought  into  his  presence.  I 
told  my  story,  and  asked  to  be  changed.  He  could  not  do  it  as  he 
was  acting  under  the  instructions  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  but  he 
would  do  what  he  could  to  give  me  protection,  and  this  is  what 
he  did :     He  ordered  the  prisoners  to  be  seated  four  yards  apart 


282  (?  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

when  they  were  breaking  stones,  and  ordered  that  they  should  not 
speak  to  each  other;  and,  also,  when  it  was  necessary  to  draw 
stones,  that  I  be  left  to  my  work,  the  others  going  to  draw  the  cart. 

The  prisoners  were  mad  at  being  kept  so  far  apart,  and  prevented 
from  killing  time  by  conversation,  and  some  of  them  began  to  look 
black  at  me  as  being  the  cause  of  their  discomfort.  One  magnani- 
mous fellow  said  if  he  were  in  my  place  he'd  fling  himself  down 
the  stairs  or  commit  suicide  some  other  way  rather  than  be  keeping 
nine  innocent  men  in  perpetual  torment. 

On  the  morning  of  June  the  1st  we  were  placed  at  work,  sur- 
rounding a  large  heap  of  small  round  stones  that  must  at  one  period 
of  their  lives  have  been  washed  by  sea  or  river  water  ;  we  were  not 
allowed  to  sit  down,  but  were  permitted  to  place  one  knee  on  a 
stone  and  strike  at  the  small  stones  with  our  hammers.  It  was  not 
a  very  agreeable  position  to  be  working  in,  and  I  had  previously 
made  up  my  mind  to  make  a  final  "  strike"  that  morning,  and  bid 
farewell  to  my  companions.  Warder  Thompson  and  a  principal  offi- 
cer were  standing  on  a  pile  of  wood  that  overlooked  the  pile  of 
stone,  when  I  stood  up,  and  asking  "Jobler"  if  he  thought  I  could 
throw  that  hammer  over  the  prison  wall  from  where  I  stood ;  while 
he  was  looking  at  me  in  amazement  I  gave  the  hammer  a  fling  with 
all  my  might. 

The  warders  approached,  and,  asking  what  I  did  that  for,  I  told 
them  I  wanted  the  hammer  no  more  as  I  had  finished  my  work  in 
that  place. 

Next  day  the  war  commenced  in  earnest,  and  I  got  three  days 
on  bread  and  water.  I  told  the  Governor  I  would  work  no  more  in 
the  party,  and  he  told  me  I  should.  I  told  him  I  would  pay  him  no 
more  salaams,  and  he  told  me  I  should.  I  told  him,  another  time,  it 
was  not  to  him  I  meant  to  be  so  disrespectful,  but  to  the  Government 
that  was  sending  him  his  orders  to  treat  me  in  such  a  manner,  and  he 
told  me  he  would  treat  me  with  contempt.  The  three  days  passed  by, 
and  then  I  got  three  days  more  for  not  saluting  the  Governor  and 
for  not  having  my  tins  bright  enough.  When  these  had  passed,  I 
got  a  repetition  of  the  dose,  and  they  kept  repeating  it  day  after 
day  until  the  17th  of  June,  I  refusing  to  work  among  the  thieves 
and  refusing  to  salaam  the  Governor. 

On  the  15  th  I  told  him  I  would  not  come  into  his  presence  any 
more,  that  it  looked  too  much  like  a  farce  to  be  bringing  me  before 
him  day  after  day  to  ask  me  what  I  had  to  say,  when  at  the  same 
time  he  would  not  record  anything  I  said,  and  lie  told  me  I  should 
come.  Next  day  I  refused  to  go,  and  five  or  six  warders  came  into 
my  cell  and  dragged  me  into  his  "judication  room,"  as  they  called 
it.  When  I  entered,  they  let  go  their  hold  of  me,  and  I  rested 
against  the  wall  with  my  hands  crossed,  and  one  leg  across  the 
other. 

I  was  ordered  to  stand  to  attention  for  the  Governor,  and  I 
made  no  movement  otherthan  to  keep  standing  against  the  wall. 


O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  283 

I  was  laid  hold  of,  and  brought  forward  to  the  rails.  One  officer 
caught  my  left  hand  and  held  it  down  by  my  side,  another  caught  my 
ri^ht;  another  came  behind  and  settled  my  heels  and  toes  in  posi- 
tion, and  then  caught  me  by  the  shoulders  and  straightened  me 
up.  I  smiled,  and  said  to  the  Governor  it  would  be  worth  his 
while  to  have  a  picture  of  this  taken  for  the  edification  of  those 
English  people  who  are  so  fond  of  picturing  foreign  customs  and 
manners.  The  three  or  four  men  who  had  hold  of  me  kept  me  in 
position  till  the  Governor  had  passed  his  sentence  of  48  hours'  bread 
and  water,  and  I  then  told  him  I  would  take  the  first  opportunity  I 
could  get  #f  practically  protesting  against  this  use  of  physical  force 
to  make  me  pay  salaams  to  him. 

I  went  to  my  cell,  and  was  raging  at  the  thought  of  these 
people  laying  hands  on  me  for  such  a  purpose,  and  of  there  being  no 
ways  or  means  to  get  myself  avenged  of  them.  The  Rev.  Mr.  O'Sul- 
livan,  the  Catholic  chaplain,  came  in,  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks  as  he  counselled  me  to  bear  all  patiently,  and  offer  my  suffer- 
ings to  God  as  satisfaction  for  my  sins.  "  Father,"  said  I, 
"  do  not  talk  to  me  that  way ;  there  is  no  use  in  my  thinking  this 
offering  would  be  worth  anything  in  the  sight  of  God,  because  it  is 
very  unwillingly  I  undergo  what  I  suffer,  and  I  would  not  undergo 
it  if  I  could.  If  I  offer  anything  to  God,  it  must  be  something  that 
I  voluntarily  suffer — something  that  I  feel  the  loss  of,  or  that  will 
really  be  a  sacrifice.  I  will  not  be  a  hypocrite  to  God  by  making 
Him  an  offering  of  what  is  worth  nothing — what  I  would  not  wish 
to  have  to  offer,  and  what  I  would  gladly  avoid  having. '  The  priest 
left  my  cell,  and,  as  he  did,  a  thought  flashed  across  my  mind  and 
brought  with  it  an  opportunity  of  making  an  offering  to  God,  and 
also  of  paying  to  the  Governor  such  a  compliment  as  would  afford 
me  human  satisfaction.  I  fell  on  my  knees  in  the  middle  of  my  cell 
and  repeated  these  words:  "Oh,  Almighty  and  Eternal  God,  I  offer 
Thee,  in  satisfaction  for  my  sins,  the  punishment  and  suffering  that 
will  come  to  me  on  account  of  this  act  which  I  contemplate  commit- 
ting to-morrow."  I  got  up  off  my  knees  and  felt  relieved.  The 
load  was  off  my  heart  already.  I  had  my  satisfaction;  for  I  had 
determined  when  the  Governor  came  for  his  salute  to-morrow  to 
have  my  slop-pail  full  of  water,  and  to  pitch  it  right  into  his  face,  and, 
once  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  do  it,  it  was  done.  Next  morning, 
when  I  took  my  pail  to  the  water-tank,  I  brought  it  back  to  my  cell 
half-full. 

Twelve  o'clock  came.  I  heard  the  Governor  going  his  rounds, 
and,  as  he  was  approaching  my  cell,  I  crouched  in  a  corner  to  bring 
him  as  near  my  gate  as  possible.  The  inside  door  was  unlocked  and 
thrown  in,  then  an  iron  gate  stood  locked  between  me  and  the 
parties  outside,  and  I  was  supposed  to  "stand  to  attention"  in  the 
iriddle  of  my  cell.  The  officer  outside  cried,  "Attention  ;  salute  the 
Governor."  The  Governor  looked  through  the  bars  to  see  where  I 
was  and  as  he  did,  he  got  my  salute  right  full  into  his  face.     It  was 


284  O' 'Donovan  Rosstfs  Prisan  Life. 

the  fairest  shot  I  ever  saw,  and  while  the  water  was  streaming  down 
his  clothes — "  That,"  said  I,  "  is  the  salute  I  owe  you ;"  and  then  lay- 
ing hold  of  the  timber  door,  I  slammed  it  with  a  force  that  shook 
the  building.  "  Oh,  sir,  'tis  clean  water,"  said  Brown,  condoling 
with  him,  and  he  was  truly  at  the  time  a  fit  subject  for  condolence. 

I  do  not  pride  myself  at  having  done  this  act ;  I  once  thought  I 
could  not  be  guilty  of  it,  but  prison  life  changes  a  man,  and  the 
treatment  I  received  changed  me  into  doing  many  things  I  thought 
myself  incapable  of  when  in  the  world.  But  I  should  have  some 
satisfaction  at  the  time  for  the  indignities  heaped  on  me,  and  if  I 
could  make  the  Secretary  of  State  or  the  Prime  Minister  of  England 
the  recipient  of  the  salute  I  gave  the  Governor,  it  would  have  in- 
creased my  peace  of  mind.  Their  treatment  of  the  Irish  political 
prisoners  was  wanton  and  uncalled  for.  It  was  not  a  political  neces- 
sity to  associate  us  with  thieves  and  murderers;  it  was  to  show  their 
affected  contempt  of  us  and  of  our  cause,  and  to  try  and  force  us  into 
feeling  degraded.  While  I  would  humbly  apologize  to  the  individual 
whose  lot  it  was  to  become  the  recipient  of  such  an  indignity,  I 
would  tell  the  authorities  that  treated  us  as  I  have  been  descri- 
bing that  the  salute  was  richly  deserved,  and  that  "  it  was 
only  the  reflex  of  the  treatment  I  was  receiving."  This  I  told 
them  when  I  was  in  their  toils — when  Capt.  Du  Cane,  in  passing 
sentence  upon  me,  said  it  was  a  brutal  act.  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  to  fight  it  out  with  them,  because  I  had  pledged  the  punish- 
ment that  was  to  come  of  it  as  an  offering,  and  I  would  say  or  do 
nothing  to  mitigate  the  amount. 

The  day  of  the  assault  I  remained  in  my  cell,  as  cool  as  a  cu- 
cumber, and  I  was  allowed  to  rest  there  quietly  too;  but  next 
morning,  about  ten  o'clock,  Principal  Warder  Alison,  with  two  other 
warders,  came  and  told  me  they  had  orders  to  put  me  in  handcuffs. 
"  Here,  then,"  said  I  to  Alison,  who  had  the  irons,  holding  out  my 
hands.  He  took  hold  of  one,  another  took  hold  of  another;  they 
brought  them  behind  my  back  and  bound  them  there.  I  said  noth- 
ing or  did  nothing  on  the  occasion  that  would  warrant  any  violence, 
yet  they  were  disposed  to  be  very  rude  if  they  got  any  excuse. 

At  twelve  o'clock  Brown  and  Douglas  brought  me  my  dinner. 
They  took  off  the  irons,  and  I  thought  they  were  going  to  leave 
them  off  until  I  had  dined,  but  that  would  be  too  generous  a  thing ; 
they  tied  my  hands  in  front  and  left  me  to  eat  as  best  I  could. 

As  soon  as  I  had  eaten  they  came  into  my  cell  and  unbound  me, 
but  only  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  my  hands  back  and  putting 
the  manacles  on  behind.  At  two  o'clock  I  was  taken  out  of  my 
cell,  and  my  irons  were  taken  off.  My  shoes,  my  cap,  my  stock, 
my  handkerchief,  and  my  braces  were  laid  before  me,  and  I  was 
ordered  to  dress  myself. 

I  did  so ;  my  hands  were  again  tied  behind  my  back,  and  I  was 
led  into  the  yard  to  take  an  hour's  exercise,  a  special  officer  having 
charge  of  me.     The  hour  being  up,  my  hands  were  untied,  and,  giv- 


O  Donovan  RnsscCs  Prison  Life  285 

ing  up  my  shoes,  braces,  stock,  cap,  and  handkerchief,  I  gave  my 
hands  to  the  warders  to  have  them  again  tied  behind  my  back.  At 
six  o'clock  I  got  my  supper;  my  hands  were  again  brought  to  the 
front,  and,  after  having  supped,  were  taken  to  the  rear. 

At  forty-five  minutes  past  seven  the  handcuffs  were  taken  away 
altogether,  and  I  was  left  in  peace  till  morning.  At  fifteen  minutes 
past  five,  next  morning,  my  hands  were  tied  behind  my  back ;  half 
an  hour  afterwards  they  were  untied  and  tied  in  front,  in  order  to 
allow  me  to  take  my  breakfast,  and,  having  taken  it,  they  were 
bound  behind  and  kept  there  till  dinner  time  or  the  hour's  exercise, 
according  as  either  came  first. 

This  is  a  history  of  one  day's  tyinor  and  untying.  It  continued 
day  after  day  for  thirty-five  days,  and  before  a  week  of  the  time 
had  passed  I  could  count  eight  bloody  marks  on  my  wrists.  I  got 
these  from  the  bitter,  vindictive  spirit  of  two  of  the  warders — Brown 
and  Thompson.  Whenever  these  came  to  change  the  irons  they  al- 
ways made  the  "dogs"  bite  by  allowing  the  spring  part  of  them  to 
rest  on  my  hands  when  handcuffing  me.  I  showed  my  hands  to 
Doctor  Burns ;  he  asked  Principal  Warder  Allison,  who  was  pres- 
ent, "  How  could  that  happen  ?"  "  Oh,  sir,"  said  he,  "  that  will 
happen  to  the  most  careful  officer.  I  have  often  'nipped'  a  man  my- 
self, and  could  not  help  it."  "  I  see,  I  see,"  said  Dr.  Burns,  and 
there  was  no  more  about  it,  only  that  Thompson  and  Brown  nipped 
away  every  chance  they  got.  These  two  were  consummate  scoun- 
drels. "Ah,"  said  I  to  Thompson  one  day,  "  you're  a  mean  wretch," 
as  he  was  unbuttoning  my  trousers  from  my  vest,  after  having 
bound  my  hands  behind  my  back.  I  had  no  braces,  and  I  had  no 
hands  to  keep  my  trousers  from  slipping  off,  as  I  walked  about  my 
cell.  I  gnawed  two  holes  with  my  teeth  in  the  front  of  my  vest, 
and  to  these  I  buttoned  my  trousers.  Brown  reported  me  for  tear- 
ing my  clothes ;  the  vest  was  taken  away,  and  I  got  it  back  imme- 
diately after  with  two  little  patches  sewn  in  where  I  had  made  the 
button-holes.  I  gnawed  away  at  it  again,  and  made  two  holes  more, 
and  the  next  time  that  my  hands  were  changed  to  the  front  I  but- 
toned myself.  Thompson  came  to  change  the  irons  behind,  and  no- 
ticing my  trousers  buttoned,  he  went  to  the  trouble  of  unbuttoning 
it.  I  was  afraid  that  to  torment  me  they  would  resort  to  the  trick 
of  cutiing  the  buttons  out  altogether.  My  body  clothes  were  taken 
from  me  every  night  and  placed  outside  my  cell  door,  and  every 
morning  I  took  them  in.  Thompson  opened  the  door  one  morning, 
and  as  I  was  stooping  to  take  them  up,  he  kicked  them  into  my  face. 
Now,  there  is  no  use  in  my  friends  or  my  enemies  saying  I  had  not 
patience ;  I  had.  Thompson  had  his  club,  but  at  the  time  I  did  not 
much  care  for  that.  I  could  throttle  him  before  he  could  use  it, 
but  it  could  never  be  proved  that  I  did  not  make  an  unprovoked 
assault  upon  him,  and  the  other  warders  would  be  up  immediately 
and  beat  me  to  death  or  next  door  to  it ;  for,  in  consequence  of  the 
assault  I  committed  on  the  Governor,  the  whole  of  them  at  this  time 
were  anxious  to  get  any  excuse  to  have  at  me. 


286  O' 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

When  they  were  puttiug  on  the  irons,  after  dinner  once,  they 
gave  me  a  very  wicked  bite,  and  the  blood  flowed  so  freely  that  it 
dropped  on  the  floor.  I  could  lay  the  forefinger  of  one  hand  on  the 
wound  that  was  made  in  the  wrist  of  the  other,  and,  with  my  back 
turned  to  the  door,  I  wrote  these  words — "  Might  I  not  cry  out 
*  blood  for  blood.'" 

Father  O'Sullivan  came  in  soon  afterwards,  and  seeing  the  blood 
writing,  he  exclaimed :  "  Oh  !  that  is  terrible,  you'll  only  make  mat- 
ters worse  for  yourself.     Wipe  it  out,  I  ask  you." 

"  No,  Father  O'Sullivan,  I'll  let  it  stand  and  take  the  conse- 
quences." 

"  No,  no,  you  must  wipe  it  out  before  it  is  seen." 

"I  will  not." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  do  it,"  and  so  saying  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
a  white  handkerchief.  I  thought  it  too  bad  to  let  him  soil  it,  and  I 
promised  to  clear  the  thing  away  as  soon  as  he  left  the  cell. 

The  Established  Church  was  yet  established  in  these  prisons,  and 
was  the  source  of  much  annoyance  to  me  in  the  way  of  books.  I 
was  very  often  under  punishment  and  on  probation  for  punishment 
— that  is,  I  was  a  day  under  half-and-half  treatment  until  my  sen- 
tence was  passed,  and  during  this  day  I  was  not  allowed  to  have 
my  ordinary  library  book,  but  received  one  from  the  penal  class  li- 
brary In  Chatham  all  these  penal  class  books  were  what  I  would 
term  "  Souper"  books ;  all  tending  to  show  Catholics  the  errors  of 
their  ways,  and  many  of  them  showing  to  a  certainty  when  Cathol- 
icity or  Popery  was  to  come  to  an  end.  During  the  thirty-five  days 
I  was  in  irons  I  was  in  this  probation  class,  and  I  was  annoyed  that 
I  could  get  no  book  to  read  but  these  bigoted  things.  I  got  hold 
of  one  of  them  one  day.  It  was  authored  by  a  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  and 
written  in  the  year  1848.  He  had  a  chapter  in  elucidation  of  the 
prophecies  of  Daniel,  and  he  showed  there  as  clear  as  nind  that 
Popery  was  to  come  to  an  end — was  to  be  finally  wiped  off  the  face  of 
the  earth  in  the  year  1866.  I  was  reading  this  in  my  prison  cell  in 
the  year  1868,  and  I  was  after  seeing  the  new  appointment  of 
a  priest  to  Chatham  Prison  since  I  came  there,  in  thej^ce  of  the  fact 
that  there  never  was  a  Catholic  chaplain  appoinftpr to  the  prison 
before  my  arrival.  y 

No  matter  though  we  suffer  and  scatter,  w^-are  truly  "  spread- 
ing the  faith  "  and  strengthening  it,  and,  whatever  little  consolation 
Irish  revolutionists  may  draw  therefrom,  let  the  religious  Irish  re- 
joice that  "  out  of  evil  cometh  good,"  and  let  them  also  feel  less  bit- 
terly towards  us,  bad  people,  who  are  at  least  considered  worthy  of 
being  made  the  instruments  of  that  good. 

I  sent  for  the  Protestant  chaplain — the  Rev.  &/.  Duke — and  he 
came  immediately. 

"Mr.  Duke,"  said  I,  "you  had  never  a  regul»*  Roman  Catholic 
chaplain  in  this  prison  till  this  year  ?" 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  what  of  jt  ?" 


O*  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Zifc.  287 

"Does  it  not  look  as  if  Catholicity  was  growing'  instead  of  de- 
caying?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know ;  what  are  you  coming  at  ?v* 

"  Well,  Mr.  Duke,  here  it  is.  I  am  registered  as  a  Catholic, 
and,  in  consequence  of  the  established  regulations  of  the  prison,  I 
can  get  no  book  to  read  when  I  am  awaiting  punishment  but  one 
abusing  Catholicity  and  predicting  its  downfall.  I  don't  wish  you 
to  think  me  bigoted,  but  I  think  I  hold  now  in  my  hands  a  book 
that  will  warrant  you  in  giving  me  something  secular  to  read,  as  I 
am  in  a  bad  frame  of  mind  for  religious  training.  This  is  a  book 
written  in  '48  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  and  explaining  the  prophecies 
of  Daniel.  He  explains  that  Popery  must  come  to  an  end  in  1866 ; 
this  is  1868,  and,  with  what  is  before  your  eyes  and  mine,  you  will 
readily  admit  that  the  book  is  two  years  out  of  date,  and  should 
not  be  in  any  library.     Here  is  the  passage." 

He  read  it  and  said,  "  I'll  try  and  send  you  a  few  books  out  of 
the  regular  library,  from  which  you  can  choose  one."  As  he  was 
going  away  I  said,  "  Mr.  Duke,  will  you  please  leave  me  that  until 
I  get  the  other  ?"  "  Oh,  no,"  said  he ;  "  I'll  take  this  with  me,  and 
send  you  the  schoolmaster  as  soon  as  I  can  see  him."  He  kept  his 
word,  and  I  chose  from  the  books  the  schoolmaster  brought 
D'Aubigne's  "  History  of  the  Reformation." 

"The  history  of  the  world  is  the  annals  of  the  Government  of 
the  Sovereign  King." 

That,  I  remember  well,  is  one  passage  in  the  preface  of  the  book, 
and  it  set  me  thinking — thinking  of  all  the  things  that  could  be 
charged  to  God,  if  everything  that  the  tyrants  and  scoundrels  of 
this  earth  committed  was  His  work.  I  won't  believe  it  even  though  I 
be  damned  a  thousand  times  over  for  disbelieving — damned  by  peo- 
ple in  this  world  I  mean — not  by  God.  I  can  reconcile  to  my  views 
of  the  Godhead,  "  the  falling  of  the  sparrow,"  and  the  falling  or 
numbering  of  "  the  hairs  of  the  head,"  for  I  believe  God  omniscient 
as  well  as  omnipotent,  and  I  believe  He  has  established  laws  for  the 
regulation  of  the  universe,  and  not  alone  do  sparrows  and  hairs  fall, 
but  men  and  women  fall  when  they  clash  with  those  laws,  and  then 
I  believe  God  will  bring  them  to  account  how  they  have  spent  their 
time,  hoping  he  will  have  mercy  on  all — none  being  in  more  need  of 
it  than  myself. 

I  kept  D'Aubigne  in  my  cell  until  the  irons  were  taken  off  me. 
The  book  was  a  large  one,  and  though  I  had  not  plenty  of  reading 
for  the  time,  still  the  schoolmaster  brought  me  no  other  book  that  I 
could  read.  Not  that  he  did  not  bring  me  some  books  that  I  would 
rather  have  than  re-read  the  History  of  the  Reformation,  but  they 
were  more  newly  bound,  and  would  not  lie  quietly  on  my  block 
without  shutting  up,  or  the  leaves  turning  over  before  I  wanted 
them  to  turn. 

D'Aubigne  was  an  old  volume,  and  a  little  hacked,  and  when  1 
laid  it  open  on  the  block  and  turned  over  a  leaf  with  the  aid  of  my 


288  0  }  Donovan  Bossa?s  Prison  Life. 

tongue  and  lips,  it  remained  open  until  I  had  it  read  and  chose  to 
turn  over  another.  There  was  no  position  in  which  I  could  read 
only  by  laying  the  book  on  my  stump-of-a-tree-stool,  then  turning 
my  gutta-percha  pot  upside  down,  and  sitting  on  it  with  the  stump 
of  a  tree  between  my  legs.  Not  having  the  use  of  my  hands,  I  used 
my  tongue  and  lips  instead  of  them,  in   managing  the  book. 

It  was  a  hot  Summer  and  it  was  hard  to  pass  the  day  without  a 
stretch.  I  should  lie  on  one  of  my  hands  whatever  way  I  lay  down, 
and  I  felt  my  arms  pretty  unmanageable  at  first. 

But,  by-and-by,  they  got  used  to  the  pressure  on  them.  I  fell 
asleep  a  few  times  and.  woke  with  the  arm  that  was  under  me  entire- 
ly benumbed,  no  feeling  in  it,  and  could  not  stir  a  finger.  The 
weight  of  the  body  on  the  hand  had  stopped  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  but  by  rubbing  it  to  the  wall,  and  to  the  body  for  some  time, 
sensation  and  motion  were  soon  restored. 

The  days  were  so  warm,  and  the  heat  so  oppressive  in  my  cell, 
that  I  thought  it  would  be  a  relief  to  me  to  leave  my  jacket  off,  and 
allow  myself  to  be  handcuffed  in  my  shirt  sleeves,  and  thus  I  pre- 
sented my  hands  to  Brown  one  morning  when  he  came  with  the  irons. 

"  Where  is  your  jacket  ?" 

"  There  it  is  on  the  block." 

"  Put  it  on." 

"  I  think  my  hands  would  be  more  free  without  it,  and  the  days 
are  so  very  warm  that  I  think  1  will  leave  it  oft  to-day." 

"  You  must  wear  vour  full  dress.     Put  on  your  jacket,  I  say." 

"I  will  not,  I  say." 

He  put  on  the  irons,  and  at  dinner  time  when  the  Deputy-Gov- 
ernor, Mr.  Hardy,  came  around,  he  reported  me  to  him  for  the  of- 
fence, and  the  insolence  I  gave  him. 

Captain  Hardy  said  jeeringly,  "You  had  better  take  off  your 
ipants,  too,  and  go  naked,"  to  which  I  replied — 

"  You  would  like,  perhaps,  to  have  such  a  thing  to  report  against 
me,  and  it  seems  you  want  it,  when  you  leave  me  nothing  to  keep  up 
my  pants  with,  and  when  you  loose  them  when  I  manage  to  tie  them 
to  my  vest."  This  seemed  to  be  quite  a  proper  answer  for  him,  as 
he  aud  his  accompanying  officers  left  the  cell  without  making  anoth- 
er observation.  I  believe  the  authorities  thought  about  this  time  it 
was  useless  to  be  trying  to  civilize  me  to  the  level  of  their  convict 
worthies. 

This  salute  I  gave  the  Governor  was  caucused  and  counciled  over, 
and  the  "Ring"  mast  have  said  to  themselves  "  there  is  no  use  in 
our  being  at  this  man ;  we  are  only  getting  ourselves  into  disgrace 
and  difficulties  daj  after  day;  we  must  try  some  other  course."  A 
week  after  the  "salute,"  Jobber,  who  was  in  the  next  cell  to  me, 
knocked  on  the  wall ;  I  knocked  m  return  and  listened. 

"Good-bye,  Rossa;  remember  me  and  Cos." 

I  was  rapping  back  something  w/ien  I  heard  the  doors  unlocked, 
and  the  whole  party  marching  our.  with  bag  and  baggage. 


0' 'Donovan  Horn's  Prison  Life.  289 

"Good-bye,  Rossa;  remember  me  and  Cos." 

The  tears  started  into  my  eyes — they  even  went  further  than 
my  eyes,  and  I  let  them  flow.  You  that  have  never  been  in  my 
position  can  never  know  the  feelings  that  started  them — perhaps  I 
could  not  well  analyze  them  myself;  but  there  they  were,  let  moral - 
izers,  and  philosophisers,  and  kleptologisers  say  what  they  will  of  it. 

These  men  treated  me  with  kindness.  When  I  met  them,  after 
spending  days  on  bread  and  water,  "Cos"  and  "  Job] er"  would 
have  arrangements  made  with  a  few  others  of  the  party  whom  they 
trusted  to  give  me  their  dinner  bread  as  we  were  going  up  the  stairs. 
I  would  not  take  it,  and  then  "  Cos,"  being  orderly,  would  slip  his 
meat  out  of  his  tin  and  throw  it  in  through  the  bars  of  my  gate  as 
he  was  filling  water  into  my  can,  and  this  would  be  done  at  the 
risk  of  the  officer  seeing  him,  and,  if  seen,  he  would  lose  three 
months  of  his  remission,  and  be  reduced  from  roast  beef  and  tea  to 
boiled  beef  and  porridge  for  a  few  months  more. 

Fourteen  days  of  the  thirty-five  had  passed,  and,  as  I  had  eaten 
my  dinner,  the  irons  were  not  put  on  as  usual.  I  was  thinking  if 
the  torture  could  be  at  an  end  when  the  door  opened  and  I  was  con- 
ducted to  the  "judication"  room,  where  sat  in  the  seat  of  judgment 
Captain  Du  Cane,  the  Chairman  of  the  Directors. 

He  read  the  charge  for  me,  and  asked  me  what  I  had  to  say.  I 
said  that  when  I  was  brought  before  Captain  Harvey,  the  day  after 
I  committed  the  offence,  he  told  me  I  would  get  a  sheet  of  paper  to 
make  out  my  defence  for  the  Director.  I  got  no  sheet  of  paper 
since. 

"  You  can't  have  it.     Have  you  any  reply  to  make  ?" 

"  I'll  make  no  reply  except  on  paper." 

"  Do  you  admit  the  offence  ?" 

"  Oh,  certainly — yes." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  that  instead  of  improving,  you  are  only 
getting  worse." 

"  And  worse  I'll  be  getting  while  you're  getting  worse." 

"  This  act  of  yours  is  a  most  brutal  one." 

"It  is  only  just  the  reflex  of  the  treatment  I  am  receiving." 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said,  addressing  my  conductors,  who  con- 
ducted me  back  to  my  cell. 

I  was  left  for  an  hour  with  my  hands  free,  and  I  thought  a 
new  sentence  had  been  passed  and  the  irons  laid  away.  But  that 
was  not  so ;  they  came  as  soon  as  Du  Cane  had  settled  his  business, 
and  the  doubt  as  to  what  my  punishment  was  to  be  was  perplexing. 
Next  morning  I  heard  the  triangle  being  placed  outside  my  cell 
window  where  the  prisoners  were  always  flogged,  and  as  I  heard 
the  whistle  of  the  lash  strings  in  the  air,  and  heard  the  victim's  cries 
as  his  back  was  cut,  I  was  nerving  myself  to  go  through  the  same 
operation. 

I  was  prepared  for  anything,  and  though  I  never  much  liked 
flogging,  I  felt  some  sort  of  satisfaction  at  thinking  these  people 


290  C Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life, 

would  flog  me.  I  knew  the  act  would  both  degrade  them,  and 
stimulate  Irishmen  to  greater  exertion  to  be  avenged. 

Du  Cane  had  decreed  my  sentence  that  day,  but  it  was  twenty- 
one  days  afterwards  before  it  was  announced  to  me,  during  which 
time  I  was  kept  in  irons,  though  1  was  as  quiet  as  a  lamb. 

I  say  this  because  there  is  a  prison  ordinance  which  says  that 
irons  are  only  to  be  continued  on  a  prisoner  while  he  continues  to 
be  violent,  and  that  in  no  case  are  they  to  be  kept  on  longer  than  seven- 
ty-two hours  without  a  special  order  from  a  Director.  When  Captain 
Du  Cane  was  questioned  by  the  Devon  Commission,  as  to  why  these 
irons  were  kept  on  me  for  thirty-five  days  without  any  extra  order, 
he  got  out  of  the  dilemma  by  saying  that  the  seventy- two  hours 
meant  consecutive  hours,  and  that  the  order  had  not  been  violated, 
inasmuch  as  I  never  had  them  on  at  a  time  for  more  than  fourteen 
consecutive  hours.  In  a  word,  he  admitted  squarely  that  a  coach- 
and-four  could  be  run  through  the  ordinance,  and  that  the  irons 
could  have  been  kept  on  me  for  a  life-time,  so  long  as  they  were  taken 
off  at  night,  without  violating  a  letter  of  the  law,  though  he  admit- 
ted the  spirit  of  it  might  be  violated. 

When  I  come  to  speak  of  this  Commission  at  length,  I  will  give 
some  of  Du  Cane's  quibbling  evidence. 

Here  is  a  copy  of  his  judgment  sent  to  Colonel  Henderson,  whom 
Du  Cane  succeeded  as  Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Prison  Directors, 
when  the  other  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  London  police 
force : 

^Defence  of  prisoner  Hossa" 

" Declines  to  make  any  defence  except  in  'writing" 

Sentence  on  prisoner. 

"  Colonel  Henderson — The  prisoner  is  without  doubt  guilty  of 
the  very  foul  and  insubordinate  conduct  alleged  in  the  charge.  The 
Governor  of  the  Chatham  Prison  is,  as  is  well  known,  as  temperate 
and  judicious  a  person  as  it  is  possible  to  find ;  the  officers  in  the 
immediate  charge  of  the  department  in  which  the  prisoner  is,  are 
selected  lor  their  judgment  and  fidelity;  nevertheless,  he  is,  as  stated 
in  the  evidence,  and  as  his  misconduct  sheet  shows,  constantly  com- 
mitting acts  of  insubordination  and  resistance  towards  his  officers, 
and  every  available  punishment  has  been  tried  in  his  case,  without 
effect,  nor  does  kindness  have  any  better  effect  upon  him  [oh,  Holy 
Moses,  what  kindness  I  got  from  them].  He  would  in  the  ordi- 
nary course  be  punished  for  the  offence  he  has  committed  by  flog- 
ging, but  it  is  thought  that  this  punishment  should  not  be  inflicted 
without  special  authority.  If  it  should  not  be  thought  advisable  to 
inflict  it,  I  can  only  suggest  that  he  be  sentenced  to  twenty-eight 
days'  punishment  diet  in  close  confinement,  and  be  placed  in  the 
penal  class  for  six  months;  also,  that  to  prevent  the  chance  of  his 
repeating  outrages  of  this  description  on  the  officers  of  the  prison 
who  are  obliged  to  visit  him,  all  moveable  articles  and  utensils  are 


C  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  291 

removed  from  his  cell,  and  whatever  is  necessary  being  made  a  fix- 
ture, and  that  he  be  kept  in  handcuffs  in  the  day  time.  It  is  for 
consideration  whether  the  prisoner  should  be  allowed  to  remain  in 
this  prison  after  having  committed  such  an  outrage  on  the  Governor, 
especially  if  it  was  decided  that  the  severe  punishment  for  such  of- 
fences shall  not  be  inflicted.— Signed,  "E.  F.  Du  Cane,  1.7,  '68." 

And  then  Colonel  Henderson,  taking  a  week  to  consider  and  to 
consult  the  Ministry  whether  the  prisoner  should  be  flogged  or  not, 

writes : 

"I  am  unwilling  to  resort  to  corporal  punishment  in  the  casenof 
this  man,  whose  conduct  savors  of  imbecility,  except  in  the  last  re- 
source. Carry  out  the  Director's  punishment,  twenty-eight  days' 
punishment  diet  in  close  confinement  and  six  months'  penal  class, 
and  remove  all  moveable  articles  from  his  cell. — Signed, 

"  E.  G.  \Y.  Henderson,  7.7,  '68." 

These  people  would  be  only  too  glad  to  flog  me  if  they  could  carry 
out  the  "  discipline  "  unknown  to  the  world,  but  they  knew  the  story 
would  get  abroad  and  do  them  more  mischief  than  they  could  do  me 
good.  Not  a  fortnight  passed  by  me  in  this  prison  that  the  shrieks 
of  flogging  the  unfortunates  did  not  make  my  flesh  creep. 

The  first  three  or  four  strokes  generally  brought  piercing  wails, 
but,  after  that,  till  the  two  or  three  dozen  were  given,  I  heard  no 
more,  though  I  heard  the  whips  slashing  against  the  naked  back. 
An  odd  case  may  arise  where  a  prisoner  would  utter  no  cry,  and 
this  person  would  be  a  hardened  wretch  in  the  estimation  of  the 
jailers,  while  his  fellow-prisoners  would  look  upon  him  as  a  hero. 

I  managed  a  few  times,  by  putting  my  fingers  in  the  holes  of  my 
iron  blind,  and  drawing  myself  up,  to  have  a  look  at  the  ceremony 
of  flogging.  There  was  the  triangle — three  bars  of  iron  coming  to- 
gether at  the  top  and  extended  and  stuck  into  the  ground  at  the 
bottom. 

The  prisoner's  hands  were  lashed  above,  and,  I  suppose,  his  feet 
— which  I  could  not  see — were  tied  below.  The  two  doctors,  the 
Governor,  the  Protestant  chaplain,  and  several  warders  stood  around. 
The  prisoner  was  naked  to  the  waist.  A  burly  jailer  swayed  the  cat- 
o'-nine  tails — nine  pieces  of  hard  cord  tied  to  a  stick  about  a  foot 
and  a  half  long.  Every  stroke  he  gave  he  drew  the  cords  through 
his  hand  to  clean  away  the  flesh  or  blood  that  may  be  on  them,  and 
also  to  make  them  even  for  the  next  stroke.  A  principal  warder 
cried  out  aloud  "  one,  two,  three,"  and  so  on,  till  a  dozen  were 
counted ;  then,  to  relieve  the  first  man,  an  assistant  flogger  took  the 
lash,  and  began  at  "  thirteen,"  going  on  till  he  came  to  "  twenty- 
four,"  when  the  other  took  his  turn,  and  became  relieved  again  at 
"  thirty-six,"  if  the  victim  was  to  get  more  than  three  dozen.  'Twas 
an  ugly  sight,  suitable  only  for  ugly  people.  Wasn't  my  whole  flesh 
creeping  and  cursing  one  day  as  I  saw  an  unfortunate  fellow  tied  up 
with  his  head  hanging  on  his  shoulder  as  they  were  slashing  away 
at  him,  while  the  high  officials  were  looking  on  with  umbrellas  over 


292  O"*  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life. 

their  heads  and  mats  under  their  feet  to  protect  them  from  catching 
cold  or  catching  any  other  discomfort  from  the  drizzling  rain ! 

Du  Cane  tells  Henderson  that  the  Governor  of  my  prison  "  was  as 
temperate  and  judicious  a  person  as  it  was  possible  to  find."  Of 
course  he  was !  Where  could  you  get  a  Governor  of  an  English 
convict  prison  who  was  not  so  ? 

And  the  officers  around  me  were  "selected  for  their  judgment 
and  fidelity."  Undoubtedly.  And  what  did  that  mean  ?  Simply 
that  they  were  such  officers  as  would  be  faithful  to  their  masters' 
behests,  and  would  give  no  quarter  to  the  prisoner.  Du  Cane's  sen- 
tence also  decrees  that  the  prisoner  is  to  be  kept  in  irons  during  the 
daytime,  and  here  was  left  an  open  to  keep  me  in  irons  for  seven 
months,  but  that  was  not  done,  for  the  day  the  bread  and  water 
commenced  the  placing  me  in  irons  ended. 

About  a  week  after  Du  Cane's  visit  I  was  changed  from  cell  No. 
6  to  No.  13,  and  next  day,  when  I  got  my  hour's  exercise,  I  saw 
two  large  holes  broken  in  the  wall  of  No.  6.  It  occurred  to  me  they 
were  making  some  preparations  for  my  permanent  location  there 
and  I  was  right,  for  as  I  was  passing  my  guardian  officer  he  was 
talking  to  Principal  Warder  Alison.  Both  of  them  were  looking  at 
the  holes,  and  Alison  said,  in  a  self-satisfied  tone,  loud  enough  for 
me  to  hear,  "  I  think  he  will  be  brought  to  his  senses  now." 
They  were  building  an  iron  closet  in  the  cell,  and  otherwise  making 
it  iron  proof;  but  you  must  wait  for  its  thorough  description  until  I 
come  to  occupy  it. 

While  the  changes  were  making,  I,  as  I  said  before,  was  lodged 
in  No.  13,  where  I  spent  a  most  agreeable  time.  The  two  cells  over 
me  were  occupied  by  Rick  Burke  and  Harry  Mulleda,  and  I  was 
not  long  in  making  their  acquaintance. 

As  we  could  converse  with  each  other  by  knocking  on  the  wall, 
I  kept  myself  occupied  all  day  by  sitting  upon  my  gutta-percha  pot 
and  telegraphing  on  the  brick  with  my  knuckles,  and,  when  they 
got  sore,  with  the  knob  of  my  handcuffs.  The  two  above  me  had 
to  work;  they  were  laboring  for  their  daily  bread,  and  I  had  to  en- 
gage each  of  them  in  turn,  so  as  to  give  one  time  to  pick  his  oakum 
while  the  other  was  giving  me  news. 

I  bad  about  a  fortnight  of  this  life,  when  No.  6  was  duly  finished, 
and  my  Lenten  season  commenced.  Deputy-Governor  Hardy  and 
Alison,  and  two  other  officers,  entered  No.  13  one  evening,  the  Dep- 
uty holding  in  his  hand  a  large  sheet  of  foolscap,  which  he  began  to 
read,  and  as  he  began,  he  stopped,  saying — "  Had  we  not  better 
read  it  in  the  other  cell  ?"  "  Yes,  sir,  yes."  And  turning  to  me, 
Alison  gave  the  order  to  '•  Come  on,"  and  as  we  stood  in  my  old — 
but  now  new — quarters,  Hardy  proceeded  to  read  my  sentence.  I 
have  not  the  exact  words,  but  this  is  the  substance.  I  was  to  be 
kept  in  that  cell,  and  never  let  out  of  it,  for  twenty.eight  days.  I 
was  to  get  eight  ounces  of  bread  and  a  pint  of  water  at  half-past 
five  in  the  morning,  and  the  same  at  six  in  the  evening,  and  every 


O' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  293 

fourth  day  I  was  to  have  a  dinner  consisting  of  a  pint  of  stirabout, 
a  pound  of  potatoes,  and  a  quarter  of  an  ounce  of  salt.  I  was  to  be 
allowed  no  books,  except  the  Bible,  and  my  clothes  were  to  be  taken 
from  me  every  night,  and  given  to  me  every  morning.  "  You  may 
take  off  the  handcuffs  now,"  said  Hardy  to  Alison,  as  he  finished 
reading. c  I  was  unbound ;  they  made  a  free  man  of  me,  and  when 
they  left,  I  proceeded  to  examine  the  new  improvements  in  my  old 
habitation. 


chapter  xvm. 


MY  NEW  CELL — THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  WATERS — HANDCUFFS  AND  BLACK- 
HOLE  AGAIN BREAK  MY  MODEL  WATER-CLOSET,  MY  BELL-HAN- 
DLE, MY  TABLE,  ETC. GAMBIER'S  VISIT  AND  HYPOCRISY DE- 
PRIVED   OF   MY   BED  AND   BIBLE— VERSE-MAKING MY   READINGS 

AND     MY     WIFE'S — DEPRIVED     OF     BED     AND     BODY     CLOTHES A 

STRUGGLE KNOCKED     DOWN,      STRIPPED,     LEAPED      UPON,     AND 

KICKED — A  REPRIEVE — MEET  HALPIN,  WARREN,  AND  COSTELLO 
A  STRIKE  AGAINST  CLIPPING  AND  STRIPPING A  FAMILY  QUAR- 
REL  "  ERIN'S    HOPE  "  AND    HER   HEROES GRASS  PICKING RICK 

BURKE  AND  HARRY  MULLEDA WOOD-CHOPPING WARREN  CHOPS 

A    FINGER DETECTED    LETTER — WRONGFULLY   IMPRISONED   TEN 

DAYS o'HARA's  LETTER KEPT  FROM  CHAPEL EXTRAORDINARY 

PRECAUTIONS — LUDICROUS    POSITION    AT    PRAYERS RELEASE    OF 

COSTELLO     AND    WARREN ARRIVAL     OF     JOHN     m'cLURE,     JOHN 

DEVOY,  AND  CAPTAIN  O'CONNELL BRICK-CLEANING  IN  A  RE- 
FRIGERATOR  THE     CUP     OF   HALPIN'S   AFFLICTION   FLOWN    OVER 

HIS   ILLNESS    AND   THE    DOCTOR'S    INDIFFERENCE. 

My  cell  was  a  model  one,  and,  as  the  jailers  left,  I  lay  down  on 
my  guard-bed  and  took  a  survey.  The  thick  pane  of  glass  that  was 
stuck  in  the  wall  to  allow  me  a  little  gaslight  was  protected  on  the 
inside  by  a  plate  of  perforated  iron  worked  into  the  wall,  and  also 
another  plate  protected  the  spy-hole.  My  guard-bed  was  changed 
from  lying  across  the  cell  to  lying  on  a  line  with  the  door,  and,  as 
the  ventilator  was  on  a  level  with  my  shoulders  when  I  lay  down, 
I  found  it  very  unpleasant  at  night. __  The  bed  was  changed  in  order 


294  O*  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

to  make  room  for  the  erection  of  a  water-closet,  which  was  the 
beauty  of  my  habitation.  It  had  no  cover,  and  the  seat  was  a  thick 
stone  flag,  while  all  the  other  surroundings  were  iron.  It  was  made, 
and  the  whole  cell  was  made,  to  resist  any  attempts  of  mine  to  break 
it ;  but,  after  a  few  weeks,  I  made  a  breach  in  the  fortress. 

The  ordinary  mortar  with  which  the  prison  was  built  had  been 
chiselled  out  from  the  bricks  to  the  depth  of  an  inch,  and  burglar- 
proof  cement  inserted  instead.  New  pipes  had  been  laid,  and  a 
water-tap  placed  inside  my  cell,  which  I  could  turn  when  I  wanted 
to  let  the  water  run.  This  tap  was  one  thing  which  I  was  allowed 
control  of,  and  after  a  little  reflection  I  proceeded  to  make  the  best 
possible  use  of  it.  It  was  a  patent  one,  and,  turning  it  as  far  back 
as  I  could,  I  took  a  stretch,  and  as  the  water  spouted  away  I  imag- 
ined myself  on  the  banks  of  a  purling  stream.  In  half  an  hour  or  so 
the  warders  discovered  there  was  something  wrong;  they  had 
no  water  in  the  ward,  and  the  waste  was  traced  to  my  cell.  They 
came  in,  and  Alison,  making  for  the  tap,  asked  why  I  let  the  water 
run.  I  told  him  to  keep  the  closet  all  right ;  he  kept  turning  and 
turning,  but  could  not  turn  it  to  the  proper  grade.  He  then  pro- 
nounced the  tap  out  of  order,  and  sent  for  the  engineer.  This  gen- 
tleman came,  and  pronounced  the  machinery  all  right.  As  soon  as 
they  were  outside  the  door  I  let  the  water  run  again,  and  they  re- 
turned again.  Alison  threatened  all  kinds  of  punishment,  and 
I  told  him  they  were  doing  their  big  best  already,  but  in 
spite  of  all,  I  intended  to  enjoy  myself,  and  as  there  was  a  fine 
old  Irish  song  called  the  music  of  the  waters  I  would  enjoy  as  rnuch 
as  I  could  of  it  by  allowing  that  wrater  to  run  till  the  river  ran  dry. 
Half  an  hour  passed  and  Alison  made  his  appearance  with  a  pair  of 
handcuffs.  "  ]STowr,"  said  he,  "we'll  quieten  you,"  and,  tying  my 
hands  behind  my  back,  I  was  led  into  the  blackhole.  I  was  kept 
there  for  two  days  and  two  nights,  and  when  brought  back  to  num- 
ber six  I  found  the  tap  had  been  changed  from  the  inside  to  the 
outside,  and  when  I  wanted  water  I  had  to  ring  the  bell,  when  a 
warder  would  come  and  let  it  run  for  a  few  seconds. 

English  prison  law  declares  that  a  prisoner  is  not  to  be  put  in 
irons  unless  he  is  violent ;  and  some  people  are  so  good-natured  as 
to  believe  this  law  is  obeyed  to  the  letter.  There  was  not  much  vio- 
lence in  turning  a  water-tap  and  talking  of  the  music  of  the  waters, 
but  Lord  Devon's  Commission  will  not  have  it  so.  Here  is  what 
they  have  to  say  of  an  offence  of  such  a  "  grave  character"  :  "  The 
actual  statement  wTas  that  he  was  manacled  for  35  days.  It  is  to  be 
observed  that  having  been  released  from  handcuffs  at  2  p.  m.,  July 
20,  he  was,  for  a  further  offence  of  a  grave  character  committed  in 
the  interval,  replaced  in  manacles  on  the  same  day  at  4:15  p.  m ,  and 
they  were  not  finally  removed  until  noon  on  the  22d." 

When  the  handcuffs  were  removed  this  time  I  told  Alison  I'd 
break  the  closet  if  he  did  not  put  a  cover  on  it,  and  he  defied  me  to 
do  so.     I  had  no  weapon,  but,,  looking  around,  my  eyes  rested  on 


C  Donovan  Rosses  Prison  Life.  295 

the  bell-handle,  and  I  made  an  effort  to  break  it ;  'twas  no  use  try- 
ing to  do  so  with  my  naked  hands3but  I  thought  there  may  be  a  bettei 
chance  by  taking  off  my  jacket  and  twisting  it  about  the  knob. 

When  this  was  done,  I  gave  a  long  pull,  a  strong  pull,  and  a  pull 
together,  when  the  bell  handle  and  myself  sprawled  upon  the  floor. 
I  knew  the  jailers  would  be  in  on  me  soon,  and  as  the  doors  were 
opening  I  hurled  the  piece  of  iron  against  the  closet  basin,  and 
knocked  a  piece  of  it  off 

This  was  one  breach  made  in  the  fortification.  I  got  the  black- 
hole  again  for  a  few  days,  and  when  I  came  back  I  had  a  bell-handle 
that  could  not  be  broken ;  but  1  repeated  my  resolution  to  break 
the  closet.  I  found  a  bit  of  the  smashed  crockery,  and  with  this  I 
scraped  away  some  cement  and  pulled  out  a  piece  of  brick,  with 
which  I  made  another  breach  in  the  citadel  before  I  was  detected. 
My  next  adventure  was  to  pull  my  table  out  of  the  wall,  and  I 
showed  them  pretty  clearly  that  I  could  knock  their  cell  into  a 
cocked-hat  in  less  than  no  time.  After  a  fortnight's  warfare  of  this 
kind  Gambier,  the  Director,  visited  the  prison,  and  he  came  into 
me,  accompanied  by  half-a-dozen  warders.  They  made  motions  as  if 
they  would  protect  him  from  an  assault,  but  he  very  blandly  said, 
"  Oh,  never  rnina — llossa  won't  hurt  me." 

He  then  told  me,  in  his  silveriest  tones,  that  he  was  very  glad  to 
have  some  very  good  news  for  me — that  my  wife  was  doing  very 
well  in  America,  that  he  saw  newspapers  with  accounts  of  her  read- 
ings, and  that  he  met  my  attorney,  Mr.  Lawless,  a  short  time  ago, 
who  told  him  to  tell  me  my  children  were  all  right,  too.  As  he 
was  talking  this  way  he  laid  hold  of  my  arm,  and  my  whole  frame 
trembled  at  feeling  him  touch  me  with  a  butcher's  hand.  His 
fingers  could  not  find  much  between  them  but  skin  and  bone,  and, 
with  all  his  kind  words,  he  left  the  prison  that  day,  having  given 
orders  that  I  was  to  get  no  bed  that  night. 

Up  to  this  I  got  my  bed  at  half-past  seven  o'clock  every  even- 
ing, but  as  I  was  in  general  insurrection,  I  refused  to  take  it  away 
evt  ry  morning  to  the  bath-room,  on  the  plea  that  my  bed  was  taken 
out  of  my  cell  during  the  day  for  the  purpose  of  punishing  me,  and 
that  it  was  not  right  for  me  to  be  the  agent  of  my  own  punishment. 
Sometimes  I'd  remain  lying  down  until  the  warders  would  come  and 
pull  the  bed  from  under  me.  The  Deputy-Governor  was  continu- 
ally threatening,  that  unless  I  removed  my  bed  in  the  morning  1 
would  not  get  it  at  night,  but  the  threat  was  never  carried  out  until 
Gitmbier  came,  and  that  night  and  the  night  after  I  lay  in  the  black- 
hole  without  anything  to  cover  me.  But  worse  than  that  has  to 
come  on  yet,  when  I  come  to  the  time  that  they  not  alone  deprived 
me  of  my  bed,  but  deprived  me  of  my  body  clothing  also. 

They  acted  illegally  in  depriving  me  of  the  bed,  and  when  I  had 
two  nights'  experience  of  this  deprivation,  I  took  it  on  the  third 
night  when  Alison  offered  it  to  me,  on  condition  of  my  promising  to 
carry  it  out  in  the  morning. 


296  O^  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life, 

I  maintained  that  they  were  lowering  themselves  and  their  dig- 
nity in  exacting  any  promises  from  me,  that  discipline  required  my 
punishment  whenever  I  offended,  and  no  parleying  was  in  order. 
We  also  compromised  about  the  cell.  I  was  to  abstain  from  assault- 
ing the  closet,  on  conditions  that  disinfectants  were  thrown  into  it  a 
few  times  a  day,  and  Douglas  got  a  large  bottle  of  the  stuff,  which 
he  used  whenever  I  required  it. 

During  these  twenty-eight  days  on  bread  and  water  I  got  no 
books,  but  they  were  so  liberal  as  to  allow  me  to  retain  my  Bible, 
and  so  little  thankful  was  I  to  them  for  this,  that  it  often  came  into 
my  mind  to  tear  the  book  in  pieces,  in  order  to  show  my  contempt 
for  their  hypocritical  regard  for  it,  when  they  were  treating  me  in  all 
other  ways  in  a  wholly  unchristian  spirit. 

But  if  I  tore  the  book  they  would  use  that  act  against  me — they 
would  tell  the  people  in  the  world  that  I  did  such  an  outrageous  thing, 
and  did  it  in  the  spirit  of  irreligion  ;  and  the  religious  folk,  Catholic 
as  well  as  Protestant,  English  as  well  as  Irish,  who  had  been  always 
opposed  to  revolution  or  "  Fenianism,"  would  hail  this  as  something 
to  harp  upon  in  sustainment  of  the  calumnies  they  had  always  hurl- 
ed against  those  connected  with  the  movement.  Thoughts  of  this 
kind  restrained  me,  or  I  would  have  destroyed  the  book  in  order  to 
save  it  from  the  desecration  that  came  upon  it  by  living  in  a  place 
where  it  was  used  as  if  in  mockery  and  derision  of  all  its  teachings. 

About  a  month  after  this  time,  the  authorities,  thinking  I  was  de- 
riving some  consolation  from  "the  Word,"  decided  that  that  was  to 
be  taken  away  from  me,  too.  Captain  Hardy  and  Alison  came  into 
my  cell.  The  former  asked  the  latter  if  I  was  yet  refusing  to  work. 
He  said,  "Yes;"  then  the  Deputy,  pointing  to  the  book,  said: 
"  Why  is  he  allowed  books,  then  ?"  "  Oh,  sir,"  says  Alison,  "that 
was  a  mistake  of  mine ;  it  is  my  fault.  I  should  not  have  allowed 
him  any  books  while  he  refused  to  work" — and  taking  hold  of  the 
Bible,  he  walked  away  with  it. 

The  following  verses,  strung  together  during  those  cold  nights 
and  hungry  days  in  the  blackhole,  will  show  how  much  my  mind  was 
filled  with  their  Bible  hypocrisy : 

My  prison  chamber  now  is  iron  lined, 

An  iron  closet  and  an  iron  blind. 

But  bars,  and  bolts,  and  chains  can  never  bind 

To  tyrant's  will  the  freedom-loving  mind. 

Beneath  the  tyrant's  heel  we  may  be  trod, 
We  may  be  scourged  beneath  the  tyrant's  rod, 
But  tyranny  can  never  ride  rough-shod 
O'er  the  immortal  spirit-work  of  God. 

And  England's  Bible  tyrants  are,  O  Lord  ! 
Of  any  tyrants  out  the  crudest  horde, 
Who'll  chain  their  Scriptures  to  a  fixture  board 
Before  a  victim  starved,  and  lashed,  and  gored. 


O*  Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life.  297 

They  tell  such  tales  of  countries  far  away, 
How  in  Japan,  and  Turkey,  and  Cathay, 
A  man  when  scourged  is  forced  salaams  to  pay, 
While  they  themselves  do  these  same  things  to-day. 

The  bands,  the  lash,  the  scream,  the  swoon,  the  calm, 
The  minister,  the  Biole,  and  the  psalm, 
The  doctor  then  the  bloody  seam^  to  balm, 
"Attention,  'tention,"  now  for  the  salaam. 

I  don't  salaam  them  and  their  passions  roll, 
Again  they  stretch  me  in  the  damp  blackhole, 
Again  they  deal  to  me  the  famine  dole, 
To  bend  to  earth  the  heaven-created  soul. 

Without  a  bed  or  board  on  which  to  lie, 
Without  a  drink  of  water  if  I'm  dry, 
Without  a  ray  of  light  to  strike  the  eye, 
But  all  one  vacant,  dreary,  dismal  sky. 

The  bolts  are  drawn,  the  drowsy  hinges  creak, 
The  doors  are  groaning,  and  the  side  walls  shake, 
The  light  darts  in,  the  day  begins  to  break, 
Ho,  prisoner  !  from  your  dungeon  dreams  awake. 

Attention,  "  'tention,"  "  'tention,"  now  is  cried, 
The  English  master  jailer  stands  outside, 
And  he's  supposed  to  wear  the  lion's  hide, 
But  I  will  not  salaam  his  royal  pride. 

"Rossa,  salute  the  Governor,"  cries  one, 
The  Governor  cries  out — "  Come  on,  come  on," 
My  tomb  is  closed,  I'm  happy  they  are  gone, 
Well — as  happy  as  I  ever  feel  alone. 

Be  calm,  my  soul,  let  state  assassins  frown, 
'Tis  chains  and  dungeons  pearl  a  prisoner's  crown, 
'Tis  suffering  draws  God's  choicest  blessings  down, 
And  gives  to  freedom's  cause  its  fair  renown. 

Secret  instruction  from  the  authorities  to  the  prison  governor. ) 

That  we  are  base  assassins,  he  says  so, 

And  liars  and  hypocrites,  'tis  well  to  know 

That  he's  at  least  an  unrepenting  foe, 

To  cast  him  out  as  far  as  we  can  throw, 

Is  now  our  bounden  duty.     This  we  owe 

To  England's  Majesty.     Then  keep  him  low, 

Yet  treat  him  doctorly — be  sure  and  slow, 

Leaving  no  record  anywhere  to  show 

That  aught  but  nature  gave  the  conquering  blow, 

And  once  cast  out  from  this  our  heaven  below, 

What  care  we  if  to  heaven  above  he  go  ! 

English  writers  are  fond  of  turning  into  ridicule  Eastern  magis- 
trates, who  require  a  prisoner,  after  being  bastinadoed,  to  return 
thanks  to  the  man  who  beats  him.  When  an  English  prisoner  is  re- 
leased from  the  triangle,  he  is  hurried  to  his  cell,  the  doctor  follows 


298  CP Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Life. 

him  to  balm  his  wounded  body,  and  the  clergyman  to  psalm  his 
wounded  soul.  As  each  of  them  enters  the  warders  call  out,  "  At- 
tention !"  and  if  the  victim  is  able  at  all  to  stand  he  is  obliged  to 
come  on  his  legs  and  pay  a  salute  to  the  gentlemen.  The  practice  is 
to  be  laughed  at  in  heathen  Turkey,  but  is  nothing  more  than  "dis- 
cipline "  in  Christian  England. 

When  my  twenty-eight  days'  bread  and  water  had  expired,  the 
six  months'  penal  class  diet  commenced,  and  they  gave  me  oakum  to 
pick  in  my  cell,  and  an  hour  in  the  open  air  every  day.  I  took  the 
%  hour,  but  I  did  not  pick  the  oakum,  on  the  grounds  that  it  was  against 
my  principle  while  undergoing  punishment,  and  for  not  working 
they  took  away  my  hour's  exercise  from  me,  and  put  me  back  every 
alternate  day,  and  sometimes  two  days  at  a  time,  on  bread  and 
water.  They  capped  the  climax  of  their  punishment  now,  when, 
besides  putting  me  on  bread  and  water  in  the  black  hole  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  they  decreed  that  I  was  to  get  no  bed  at  night,  and  that 
I  was  to  be  stripped  of  my  body  clothes. 

Alison  came  to  my  cell  at  locking-up  hour,  and  asked  me  to 
put  out  my  clothes.     "  I  will  not,"  said  I,  "  unless  I  get  a  bed." 

"  You  can  get  no  bed ;  that  is  the  order,  and  we  must  get  out 
your  clothes." 

"  That  is  assassination  work,  and  I  will  be  no  party  to  it.  I  will 
not  give  my  clothes." 

"  But  you  must  give  your  clothes,  and  we  will  soon  see  that  you 
must." 

Saying  which  he  walked  off,  and  returned  accompanied  by  warders 
Hibbert  and  Giddings. 

The  foregoing  conversation  was  repeated,  and  when  I  definitely 
said,  "  No,  I  will  not  give  them,"  the  three  of  them  rushed  at  me. 
I  tried  to  keep  them  away  by  holding  them  at  arm's  length,  but 
made  no  attempt  whatever  at  striking  them,  and  they  struck  my 
hands  with  their  clubs  to  make  me  let  go  my  hold  whenever  I 
caught  one  of  them.  I  was  soon  overpowered  and  lying  on  the 
ground,  with  Hibbert's  knee  upon  my  neck.  You  might  have 
seen  a  butcher  trying  a  pig  for  the  measles;  it  was  in  exactly  the 
same  manner  that  Hibbert  took  charge  of  my  head  and  neck  while 
Alison  and  Giddings  were  pulling  the  breeches  off  me.  It  was  ne- 
cessary to  turn  me  from  one  side  to  the  other,  and  necessary  for 
Hibbert  to  take  his  knee  off  my  neck  while  this  was  doing ;  but,  as 
I  was  on  the  flat  of  my  back,  he  gave  a  leap,  and,  with  his  knee 
ioremost,  came  down  on  my  chest.  It  was  a  treacherous,  murder- 
ous act.  The  air  shot  up  my  throat  as  it  would  through  the  neck 
of  a  full-blown  bladder  if  you  leaped  on  it.  The  sudden  compres- 
sion of  the  chest  caused  this,  and  the  blade-bones  must  have  been 
very  strong  and  elastic  to  bear  such  a  strain. 

When  they  had  stripped  me  they  were  leaving  the  cell,  and  I 
proceeded  to  raise  myself  from  the  floor,  but  Hibbert,  who  was  the 
last  going  out,  turned  back  and  gave  me  a  kick  which  threw  me  in 


0' 'Donovan  IZossds  Prison  Life.  299 

against  the  wall  and  cut  me  in  several  places.  I  was  so  excited, 
that  I  think  I  should  have  shown  myself  a  fighting  man  that  night 
if  I  could  lay  hold  of  any  weapon  to  strike  with. 

My  door  was  locked,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  they  came  and 
opened  the  trap  to  see  how  I  fared.  "  Ah,  you  assassin  dogs  !"  cried 
J,  as  v  laid  hold  of  my  gutta-percha  pot  and  flung  it  at  the  lamp; 
but  the  hole  of  the  trap-door  being  too  small  to  allow  it  to  go  out, 
I  seized  three  little  loaves  of  bread  which  I  had  as  a  reserve  against 
hanger  and  hurled  them  one  by  one  at  my  enemies. 

You  will,  perhaps,  say  I  could  not  be  very  hungry  when  I 
had  bread  to  use  as  bullets,  but  I  was  this  time  experiencing  the 
natural  effects  of  protracted  starvation — a  loss  of  appetite.  W^hen 
I  got  my  little  loaf  of  bread  in  the  morning  I  had  no  extraordinary 
mind  to  eat  it,  and,  having  a  lively  recollection  of  the  hunger  I  ex- 
perienced at  previous  times,  I  left  the  bread  uneaten  as  long  as  I 
could,  in  case  one  of  the  ravenous  attacks  came  on. 

All  that  night  of  the  assault  I  felt  my  chest  sore — felt  sore  m 
different  parts  of  my  body,  and  heart-sore,  too.  Rick  Burke  and 
Harry  Mulleda  were  in  the  cells  over  me ;  they  heard  the  noise  and 
kept  rapping  to  know  what  was  the  matter,  and  when  I  was  com- 
posed enough  I  answered  them.  We  kept  knocking  for  half  the 
night,  and  their  sympathy  was  a  balm  for  the  wounds  of  the  flesh 
as  well  as  of  the  spirit. 

In  the  morning  I  sent  for  the  doctor,  and  when  he  brought  me 
from  the  blackhole  into  the  light  of  the  hall-way  I  saw  my  chest 
black  and  blue  and  swollen.  I  got  some  liniment  to  rub  to  it,  and 
by  degrees  the  soreness  and  swelling  went  away. 

As  soon  as  Alison,  and  Giddings,  and  Hibbert  saw  I  was  under 
medical  treatment  on  account  of  their  assault,  they  entered  on  the 
books  a  charge  against  me  to  the  effect  that  I  had  assaulted  them  in 
the  discharge  of  their  duty,  and  this  charge  remained  for  two  months 
on  record  before  I  was  called  upon  to  answer  it;  then  Captain  Du 
Cane,  the  Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Directors,  came  to  the  prison, 
and  I  was  brought  before  him  to  make  my  defence. 

He  asked  me  what  I  had  to  say,  and  I  said  nothing,  but  smiled. 
"  Now,"  said  he,  "  could  not  you  get  on  in  prison  like  any  other  of 
your  fellow-prisoners  ?  They  are  all  doing  well — every  one  of  them 
— and  when  I  was  telling  some  of  them  in  Portland,  the  other  day, 
how  foolish  you  were  for  yourself,  they  were  sorry  for  you." 

This  was  all  soft  sawder  in  my  eyes,  and  I  said  at  once  that 
things  were  going  to  take  a  new  turn,  but  I  would  not  say  anything 
to  interfere  with  the  course  they  thought  proper  to  pursue  towards 
me.  My  reply  was,  "  When  have  I  been  treated  like  any  other  of 
my  fellow-prisoners?  Have  I  not  been  separated  from  them  in 
Portland  and  sent  to  work  amongst  thieves  ?  Have  I  not  been 
separated  from  them  in  Millbank  and  sent  to  work  amongst  thieves  ? 
Have  I  not  been  sent  here,  and  a  special  party  of  thieves  prepared 
for  me,  who  were  treated  exceptionally  severe,  so  that  I,  working 


300  O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

amongst  them,  could  not  be  able  to  say  I  was  not  treated  like 
others  ?" 

"But  if  I  give  you  a  chance  now,  will  you  promise  to  do 
better  ?" 

"  I  cannot  promise  anything ;  but  if  I  am  treated  like  a  human 
being  I  have  no  disposition  to  give  trouble  to  any  one." 

"  Well,  let  us  forget  the  past,  and  to  turnover  a  new  leaf;  I  will 
remit  the  rest  of  your  punishment,  and  send  you  out  to  work  to- 
morrow with  Halpin,  and  Warren,  and  Costello." 

"  Do  you  tell  me  that  Halpin,  and  Costello,  and  Warren  are  here, 
Captain  Du  Cane,"  said  I  in  surprise. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  am  now  going  to  give  you  an  opportunity  of  chang- 
ing your  conduct." 

"  Well,  Governor,  it  will  be  a  change  anyway  to  be  sent  to  work 
with  them." 

I  knew  well  that  Halpin,  Warren  and  Costello  were  in  the  prison, 
because  I  had  seen  them  through  the  holes  in  my  blinds  the  first 
Sunday  they  came,  as  they  were  exercising  in  the  yard  outside  my 
window,  and  I  was  mad  at  the  sight,  too,  for  they  were  walking 
around  one  after  the  other  some  four  yards  apart,  instead  of  being 
exercised  in  couples,  and  allowed  to  talk  as  all  the  other  prisoners 
were.  I  thought  they  should  have  pluck  enough  to  kick  against 
such  treatment,  and  I  was  vexed  at  seeing  them  submit  so  tamely 
with  all  their  "  Yankee  notions."  But  they  did  strike  afterwards,  and 
Warren  and  Halpin  often  made  me  laugh  at  the  way  they  kicked 
against  the  discipline,  so  that  I  was  repaid  for  the  chagrin  I  experi- 
enced on  first  seeing  them.  And  at  the  time  Du  Cane  was  speaking 
to  me,  they  were  on  the  strike,  having  refused  to  work  under  the 
petty  irritating  annoyance  of  the  warders. 

I  had  been  holding  telegraph  communication  with  Costello  dur- 
ing the  previous  fortnight.  He  got  laid  up  with  a  sore  leg,  and  the 
doctor,  instead  of  sending  him  to  hospital,  sent  him  into  the  cell 
next  to  mine,  so  that  I  had  an  opportunity  of  learning  through  the 
wall  all  that  was  going  on.  I  had  an  opportunity  before  that  also, 
because  when  I  found  these  friends  in  the  same  ward  with  me,  I 
managed  to  get  myself  into  the  blackhole,  so  as  to  be  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  their  cells.  Costello  was  the  first  that  my  telegraph 
communication  reached  ;  he  was  over  my  blackhole  ;  he  had  a  lot 
of  news  for  me  about  my  wife  giving  readings  in  America,  and  as 
she  and  I  had  had  no  communication  for  a  few  years,  I  made  the 
blackhole  my  favorite  abode.  I  managed  to  do  this  by  giving  read- 
ings myself.  As  soon  as  my  forty-eight  hours  in  the  underground 
cellar  had  passed,  I  was  taken  up  to  my  No.  6,  and  as  soon  as  I  was 
there  I  commenced  giving  a  recitation  lrom  Davis,  or  some  other 
poet,  when  I  was  immediately  pounced  upon  for  making  a  noise,  and 
taken  down  again.  This  was  what  I  wanted,  and  before  I  got  tired 
of  hearing  what  Costello  had  to  say  of  my  wife,  they  got  tired  or 
got  ashamed  of  keeping  me  so  long  in  the  blackhole.     It  looked 


O' 'Donovan  fiossa's  Prison  Life.  301 

as  if  they  gave  me  up  as  a  bad  job,  for  in  the  end  I  could  not  get 
myself  sent  to  the  dungeon  any  more.  I  might  dance,  sing,  or  re- 
cite, and  they  would  not  notice  me,  and  then  i  in  my  turn  got  tired 
of  declaiming  and  singing.  I  felt  that  I  had  the  victory  over  their 
"  discipline,"  and  I  was  so  magnanimous  as  to  ask  for  oakum  to  pick, 
and  when  I  commenced  to  pick  it  they  gave  me  a  library  book  to 
read. 

The  morning  after  Du  Cane  was  speaking  to  me,  I  was  sent  out 
to  work  in  company  with  Augustine  Elliott  Costello,  and  we  were 
given  in  charge  to  Warder  Pepper.  He  took  us  to  the  tool-box,  and 
gave  us  two  shovels,  two  pick-axes,  and  two  wheelbarrows,  and  then 
sent  us  to  wheel  a  heap  of  broken  stones  up  along  a  deal  board 
on  top  of  another  heap.  When  Costello  and  I  broke  ranks  after  be- 
ing marched  out,  we  shook  hands  and  spoke,  "  You're  Costello,  I  sup- 
pose ?"  "  Yes,  and  you're  Rossa  ?" — to  which  I  nodded  assent. 
Then  we  had — "  How  are  you  ?"  "  Glad  to  meet  you,"  and  all  that 
kind  of  thing  all  round.  "  Where  are  Colonel  Warren  and  General 
Halpin  ?  The  Director  told  me  I  was  to  be  sent  to  work  with  them 
and  you."  "  Oh,  they  struck  work  some  days  ago.  The  three  of  us 
were  breaking  stones  here  till  I  got  sick.  Then  they  struck,  and  are 
now  in  the  cells."  "By  Jove,  that  looks  like  a  breach  of  contract. 
The  Director  told  me  I  was  to  be  working  in  company  with  them, 
and  now  they  are  not  working  at  all." 

Here  Costello  laughed,  and  Pepper  chimed  in  a  word,  saying  he 
thought  Halpin  and  Warren  would  come  out  when  they  found  I  was 
out.  This  Pepper,  it  seems,  had  been  worrying  Halpin  and  Warren 
in  the  fashion  in  which  Thompson  had  been  worrying  me. 

"  Their  stroke  was  too  light,"  and  he  kept  telling  them  they 
should  strike  harder,  till  at  length  they  threw  down  their  hammers, 
and  refused  to  strike  any  more.  It  was  intensely  cold  at  the  time, 
coming  on  November,  and  sitting  on  a  pile  of  stones  all  day  long 
was  not  the  very  pleasantest  occupation.  Warren,  Halpin,  and  Cos- 
tello were  separated  when  tiiey  came  to  the  prison.  One  was  sent 
to  work  with  one  gang  of  thieves,  another  with  another,  and  the 
third  with  a  third;  but  the  three  kicked  against  this,  and  the 
concession  was  made  of  allowing  them  tc  work  by  themselves. 

I  worked  so  hard  the  first  day  I  came  out  that  Costello  asked 
ue  if  I  was  going  to  be  a  driver  on  him. 

I  was  reduced  to  a  skeleton  and  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  and  that  is 
no  wonder,  for  I  was  in  close  dark  confinement  since  the  1st  of  June. 
To  counteract  the  effects  of  the  cold  on  me,  I  ran  the  wheelbarrow 
up  the  hill  as  fast  as  I  could,  but  I  soon  exhausted  my  little  strength, 
and  after  an  hour  or  so  Costello's  reproofs  were  not  necessary  to 
make  me  go  easy. 

Halpin  an-1  Warren  came  out  to  work  the  second  or  third  morn- 
ing after  Costello  and  I  commenced  our  labors. 

People  talk  of  prison  life  as  if  there  was  no  brightness  in  it,  but 
that  is  all  moonshine.     There  is  no   condition  in  life  in  which  man 


302  O  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

meeting  his  fellow-man — of  kindred  spirit — will  not  feel  rejoiced.  I 
will  not  grow  so  fervid  as  to  say  that  the  moment  of  my  meeting 
Warren  and  Halpin  in  prison  was  "the  happiest  moment  of  my  life," 
but  this  I  will  say,  that  meeting  them  was  a  great  pleasure  to  me. 

Colonel  Warren  and  Captain  Costello  were  amongst  the  volun- 
teers that  came  to  Ireland  in  the  "Jackmel"  or  "Erin's  Hope." 
They  landed  in  Waterford,  and  were  arrested  the  first  day  they  set 
foot  on  Iiish  soil. 

The  fact  that  this  small  ship  was  three  or  four  weeks  on  the 
coast  of  Ireland  fully  demonstrates  that  a  number  of  men  and  arms 
could  be  landed  in  that  country  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  of  the  Eng- 
lish navy.  Her  commander,  in  making  his  official  report  when  he 
took  her  back  to  America,  says  :  "  During  eighteen  of  the  twenty- 
four  days  I  was  in  British  waters,  I  was  sought  for  by  the  English 
fleet  stationed  there,  and  in  proof  of  their  vigilance  (!)  and  efforts  I 
give  the  loss  of  the  three  following  vessels — lost  in  hunting  for  us — 
taken  from  the  English  Naval  Register:  The  Lapwing,  first-class 
gunboat,  lost  in  Killala  Bay ;  the  Revenge,  also  a  first-class  gun- 
boat, lost  on  Daunt's  Rock  ;  and  the  third,  a  second-class  gunboat, 
foundered  in  a  gale  of  wind  off  Cape  Clear.  And  yet  there  is  no 
point  of  the  coast  at  which  I  stopped  during  this  time  but  where  I 
could  land  any  amount  of  men  and  arms  were  there  preparations 
made  to  take  them  from  me,  and  the  military  officers  that  were  on 
board  will  affirm  this  statement. — John  F.  Kavanagh" 

The  following  is  the  muster-roll  of  this  little  ship,  and  as  they 
all,  with  one  exception,  are  worthy  of  honorable  mention,  I  will 
hand  them  down  to  everlasting  posterity  in  this  little  book : 

Brigadier-General  James  E.  Kerrigan,  Infantry,  commanding 
military  detachment. 

Brigadier-General  W.  J.  Nagle,  Infantry,  second  in  command. 

Brigadier-General  John  Warren,  Infantry,  third  commanding. 

Brigadier-General  George  Phelan,  Cavalry. 

Colonel  S.  R.  Tresilian,  Engineers,  first  colonel. 

Colonel  Philip  Dougherty,  Infantry. 

Colonel  Patrick  Devine,  Cavalry. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  James  Prendergast,  Infantry. 

Captain  D.  J.  Buckley,  Cavalry. 

Captain  M.  J.  Green,  Infantry. 

Captain  J.  J.  Hasley,  Zouaves. 

Captain  P.  J.  Kain,  Artillery. 

Captain  J.  E.  Fitzsimons,  Infantry. 

Captain  J.  M.  Buckley,  Infantry. 

Captain  Andrew  Leonard,  Infantry. 

Captain  A.  E.  Costello,  Infantry. 

Captain  W.  Millen,  Infantry. 

Captain  Timothy  Horan,  Infantry. 

Lieutenant  W.  J.  Downing,  Zouaves. 


C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  303 

Lieutenant  Robert  Kelly,  Zouaves. 
Lieutenant  M.  J.  Fitzgibbons,  Artillery. 
Lieutenant  W.  E.  Nugent,  Infantry. 
Lieutenant  M.  W.  Walsh,  Artillery. 
Lieutenant  A.  Downing,  Cavalry 
Lieutenant  J.  P.  Murray,  Infantry. 
Lieutenant  P.  Roach,  Artillery. 
Lieutenant  P.  O'Connor,  Cavalry. 
Lieutenant  P.  Nugent,  Zouaves. 
Lieutenant  P.  Crogan,  Zouaves. 
Lieutenant  J.  O'Connor,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  Daniel  Lee,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  Lawrence  Doyle,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  Michael  Fitzgerald,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  John  Rooney,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  William  Sheehan,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  James  Coffee,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  John  Mangin,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  John  O'Brien,  Zouaves. 
Second  Lieutenant  J.  O'Shea,  Zouaves. 

List  of  officers  and  crew  of  the  brig  "  Erin's  Hope :" 

Captain  John  F.  Cavanaugh,  commanding. 

Lieutenant  William  Sweetman,  Irish  coast  pilot. 

Ensign  Henry  O'Neill,  second  officer. 

Thomas  Hardy,  seaman. 

John  O'Connor,  seaman. 

Andrew  White,  seaman. 

James  Lawless,  seaman. 

John  Mullen,  ship's  cook  and  steward. 

John  O'Connor,  ordinary  seaman,  cabin  boy. 

The  whole  strength  of  the  military  and  naval  force  on  the  vessel 
mustered  fifty. 

Warren  and  Costello  were  released  from  prison  some  three  months 
after  I  fell  in  with  them.  They  were  convicted  for  words  they  had 
spoken  and  acts  they  had  done  in  America,  and  it  was  their  case 
brought  the  attention  of  the  United  States  to  the  monstrous  injustice 
of  having  American  citizens  punished  in  England  for  what  is  said 
or  done  by  them  in  America.  This  law  has  since  been  changed,  and 
now  no  citizen  of  the  United  States  can  be  imprisoned  in  England  on 
account  of  his  political  conduct  in  America. 

General  Halpin  came  over  to  Ireland  in  1865.  I  met  him  in  New 
York  in  the  July  of  that  vear,  and  I  met  him  often  afterwards  in 
Dublin. 

The  informer  swore  at  his  trial  that  he  heard  me  giving  him  in- 
structions in  the  office  of  the  Irish  People,  but  this  swearing  was 


304  0} s  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life. 

false,  as  Halpin  never  visited  the  office,  and  I  never  gave  Kim  any 
instructions.  He  kept  away  from  it  intentionally  and  by  advice,  to 
keep  away  the  suspicion  that  would  attach  to  him  by  association 
with  the  very  dangerous  characters  who  frequented  that  place. 

Costello,  Warren,  Halpin  and  I,  having  never  met  together  before, 
met  now  for  the  first  time,  and  it  was  not  a  very  unpleasant  meet- 
ing either.  We  chatted  and  laughed  the  weary  hours  away,  save 
on  odd  occasions,  when  we'd  go  over  the  past,  and  speak  of  our  fail- 
ures and  its  causes.  But  as  the  fight  was  a  heritage  of  our  race, 
and  as  we  were  still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  we  determined  to  carry 
it  on,  "  now  and  for  evermore."  Even  in  prison  we  held  it  to  be  our 
duty  to  "never  say  die." 

The  four  of  us  were  sent  weeding  the  yards.  We  got  bits  of 
hoop  iron  to  root  up  the  blades  of  grass  and  other  blades  that  grew 
around,  and  as  we  began  to  grumble  at  the  pains  that  came  in  our 
back  from  being  kept  continually  stooping,  we  were  furnished  with 
little  boards  on  which  to  rest  one  knee  while  we  scraped  all  around 
us.  Warren  and  Halpin  thought  they  might  as  well  sit  on  the 
boards  as  kneel  on  them,  and  they  did  so.  Pepper  remonstrated, 
but  they  thought  they  could  do  as  much  work  sitting  as  kneeling, 
and  they  remained  sitting.  When  I  saw  they  were  allowed  to 
do  so  without  getting  punished,  I  sat  down  myself,  and  the  four 
of  us  worked  this  way  for  some  weeks,  each  taking  a  ridge  of 
about  four  feet  and  picking  it  from  one  end  of  the  yard  to  the  other. 
We  had  a  very  fine  time  of  it  so  far  as  sitting  down  was  concerned, 
but  those  Yankee  spirits  could  not  rest  contented ;  they  began  to 
grumble  at  the  cold,  with  their  fingers  and  toes  getting  frost  bitten 
and  benumbed.  I  felt  the  cold  too,  and  that  pretty  sharply,  for  I 
had  not  much  flesh  on  my  bones,  and  I  did  not  care  how  much  I 
could  nurse  the  discontent  of  the  others,  but  I  was  a  good  boy  my- 
self. I  had  done  my  share  of  the  striking,  and  while  my  masters 
let  me  alone   I  would  let  them  alone. 

Warren  was  the  fir-t  to  strike,  then  Halpin,  but  the  jailers  did 
not  strike  at  them;  they    et  them  have  their  way. 

The  use  of  razors  havii  g  been  abolished  for  some  time,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  many  suicides  committed,  our  beards  were  allowed  to 
grow  for  a  month  or  two,  and  when  some  of  us  would  be  giving  the 
moustache  a  twirl  the  barber  would  come  on  with  his  scissors  to  take 
the  saucy  curl  out  of  it.  Warren  protested  against  this,  and  refused 
to  put  himself  into  the  hands  of  the  scissors  man.  He  alleged  that  he 
expected  his  release  shortly,  and  did  not  want  to  go  into  the  world 
naked.  Halpin  also  protested,  and  after  both  of  them  getting  some 
bread  and  water  they  were  allowed  to  go  to  work,  carrying  their  hair 
and  beards  with  them.  Costello  then  refused  to  allow  his  black  curly 
locks,  and  the  lew  huirs  of  a  moustache  he  had,  to  be  interfered  with. 
I  delivered  my  head  into  their  hands  and  they  kept  shearing  me  for 
some  time,  while  the  others  were  permitted  to  carry  their  hair  as 
they  liked.     Another  part  of  the  discipline  was  to  strip  us  naked 


O' 'Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life,  305 

once  a  week,  and  Warren  kicked  against  this.  The  officers  came  to 
his  cell  one  day,  and  threatened  to  use  force  to  undress  him,  but  he 
said  he  would  use  all  the  force  he  could  to  keep  himself  from  inde- 
cent exposure.  He  suggested  that  if  they  wanted  to  search  his 
clothes  they  could  do  so  on  the  day  when  he  was  taking  his  weekly 
bath,  and  while  they  could  see  him  naked  then,  it  was  quite  unne- 
cessary to  subject  him  to  the  humiliation  in  his  cell.  The  authori- 
ties availed  themselves  of  this  suggestion,  and  as  all  the  others,  ex- 
cept myself,  refused  to  be  stripped,  an  order  was  issued  that  the 
weekly  naked  search  was  to  take  place  while  each  of  us  was  bathing. 
I  saw  there  was  a  great  change  in  our  jailers'  demeanor  towards  us. 

The  least  resistance  to  an  order  before  this  was  to  be  punished 
with  the  utmost  severity,  but  now  it  was  against  their  will — or, 
rather,  against  their  policy — to  put  us  on  bread  and  water.  "  The 
field  was  fought  and  won,"  and,  as  I  saw  there  were  no  more  bat- 
tles in  view,  I  became  the  most  obedient  man  of  the  party,  and  the 
authorities,  for  their  own  purposes,  gave  me  the  character  of  being 
the  quietest  man  in  the  prison. 

Rick  Burke  and  Harry  Mulleda,  who  were  undergoing  their  nine 
months'  term  of  probation,  were  sent  out  to  us,  and  our  work  was 
changed  from  grass-picking  to  wood-splitting.  We  were  taken  into 
an  old  shed  where  lime  was  stored,  and,  after  each  of  us  fixing  a 
block  for  himself,  we  were  supplied  with  small  hatchets. 

A  pile  of  wood  lay  convenient,  and,  after  having  sawn  this  into 
pieces  about  nine  inches  long,  our  duty  was  to  cut  it  up  into  splin- 
ters about  an  inch  square  and  tie  it  into  bundles.  This  occupation 
was  pleasant  enough  unless  you  gave  your  fingers  a  touch  of  the 
hatchet,  which  occasionally  happened  to  us  all  round. 

Colonel  Warren  chopped  a  piece  off  one  of  his  fingers  once,  and, 
instead  of  our  crying  at  his  misfortune,  some  of  us,  not  thinking  he 
had  given  himself  so  wicked  a  stroke,  were  cruel  enough  to  laugh 
at  him,  which  did  not  at  all  please  him.  On  the  whole,  we  made 
ourselves  as  jolly  as  possible,  and,  as  we  were  allowed  to  joke  and 
tell  stories,  we  passed  the  time  pretty  pleasantly.  'Twas  a  paradise 
to  me  compared  with  the  life  I  had  previously  led,  and  I  look  back 
now  with  a  kind  of  affectionate  longing  for  the  stories  and  the  prison 
society  of  Rick  Burke  and  Halpin. 

Warder  Pepper  had  sole  charge  of  us,  but  soon  something  oc- 
curred that  brought  him  an  assistant.  It  seems  he  was  not  consid- 
ered watchful  enough,  inasmuch  as  a  written  communication  in- 
tended for  the  outside  world  had  been  found  in  the  prison,  and  it 
bore  evidence  of  belonging  to  us.  Rick  Burke  was  the  writer  of 
it,  but  I  was  immediately  pounced  upon  and  charged  with  the  au- 
thorship. I  was  asked  what  I  had  to  say  in  reply  to  the  charge  of 
writing  that  letter,  and  I  said  I  would  give  my  reply  in  writing.  I 
was  kept  during  ten  days  in  solitary  confinement  awaiting  the  de- 
cision of  the  Board  of  Directors,  and  then  I  was  released  and  ad- 
mitted to  the  companionship  of  the   wood-choppers,  after  being  in- 


306  (?  Donovan  Rosso*  s  Prison  Life. 

formed  the  Directors  did  not  consider  there  was  evidence  enough  to 
convict  me. 

The  six  of  us  were  taken  to  chapel  every  morning,  and  we  were 
accommodated  with  two  stools  near  the  altar  rails.  Two  warders 
guarded  us,  one  sitting  on  each  stool,  having  his  legs  spraddled 
across  the  end  of  it,  and  looking  at  his  three  men.  Another  stool 
was  left  vacant  behind  us,  and  back  of  that  were  the  rest  of  the 
prisoners.  A  partition  about  six  feet  high  ran  up  through  the  chapel 
dividing  it  into  two  parts,  and  at  the  other  side  of  it  seats  were  ar- 
ranged similar  to  those  we  sat  upon.  The  man  next  to  the  partition 
in  one  front  seat  could,  when  he  knelt  down,  whisper  to  the  man  next 
to  the  partition  on  the  other  side,  and  by  availing  ourselves  of  this 
possibility  we  opened  up  communications.  I  sometimes  held  con- 
versations here  with  Johnny  O'Brien  when  the  priest  was  reciting 
the  litanies,  and  we  were  supposed  to  be  responding  aloud.  A  man 
named  O'Hara,  and  a  few  other  Irishmen,  belonged  to  the  party,  occu- 
pied the  front  seat,  and  they  made  arrangements  to  supply  us  with 
pen,  ink  and  paper  as  well  as  to  forward  whatever  we  wrote  to  our 
friends.  The  material  was  given  to  us ;  Rick  Burke  wrote  the  letter, 
and  it  was  safely  passed  into  the  hands  of  our  correspondents  at 
chapel.  One  of  them  whose  time  was  up,  and  who  was  about  to  be  re- 
leased, hid  it  in  a  photograph  which  he  was  allowed  to  keep  in  prison. 
He  told  his  secret  to  some  one  else,  who  informed  on  him  ;  his  pic- 
ture was  broken,  the  concealed  letter  was  found,  and  the  unfortunate 
man,  losing  his  remission,  was  obliged  to  spend  the  whole  term  of  his 
sentence  in  prison. 

O'Hara  wrote  to  me  some  months  ago,  and  as  his  letter  tells 
pretty  clearly  the  story  of  this  incident  of  prison  life,  I  give  a  copy 
of  it  here : 

Barkisland,  near  Halifax,  Yorkshire,      ) 
England,  Dec.  15,  1872.  j" 
Mr.  O'Donovan  Rossa. — My  Dear  Sir :  The  writer  takes  the 
opportunity  of  communicating  these  few  lines,  hoping  to  find  you 
in  good  health,  as  it  leaves  me  at  present,  thank  Providence  for  His 
clemency  to  me. 

My  dear  sir,  I  am  after  getting  my  discharge  from  the  bleak  and 
barren  shore  of  "  Terra  Del  Fuego,"  after  serving  five  long  years 
there.  I  read  the  Irish  People  previous  to  my  incarceration,  which 
was  on  the  9th  of  December,  1867.  I  Was  sent  to  Millbank,  and 
there  I  got  acquainted  with  A.  Costello  and  poor  Captain  Warren. 
The  writer  happened  to  be  in  the  singing  class  every  morning,  and 
wras  in  the  habit  of  carrying  messages  from  A.  Costello  to  Warren 
through  a  friend  of  mine.  Once  I  wrote  to  Costello  a  letter,  worked 
with  black  thread,  in  lieu  of  black  lead.  I  was  sent  to  Chatham  in 
1 868,  and  there  I  saw  you,  Costello,  and  some  others.  My  heart  bled 
when  I  heard  of  the  treatment  you  were  undergoing.  I  spoke  to  a 
fellow  prisoner  about  you,  and  he  told  me  the  authorities  would  not 
let  you  write  home  to  your  dear  friends.     But  he  told  me  that  he 


CP Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  307 

was  going  to  be  discharged  in  a  fortnight,  and  that  he  could  take  a 
note  out  for  you,  providing  he  could  get  one  from  you. 

I  asked  him  how  he  could  manage  to  do  it,  and  he  told  me  that 
he  could  put  it  in  the  inside  of  his  mother's  portrait,  which  portrait 
he  would  get  a  few  hours  before  being  searched.  So  my  heart  leaped 
with  joy  at  the  thought  of  getting  a  letter  out  of  the  prison.  At 
that  time  I  used  to  go  up  to  the  front  seat  to  sing  every  morning, 
and  of  course  you  and  your  other  brother  sufferers  were  at  the  front 
seat  also  at  the  other  side  of  the  partition.  But  when  we  knelt 
down  we  could  see  each  other.  So  next  morning  I  took  jolly  good 
care  to  get  next  to  the  partition  when  we  knelt  down  to  pray.  _  The 
partition  divided  me  from  poor  Burke,  and  I  told  him  as  brief  as 
possible  how  things  were,  and  he  told  me  that  you  would  be  in  his 
place  next  morning,  as  he  would  tell  you  all  about  it,  So  I  saw  you 
next  morning,  and  gave  you  a  little  bit  of  black  lead  pencil  and 
some  paper  I  tore  out  of  my  geography.  You  returned  me  that 
paper  about  the  22d  of  November,  1868,  with  some  closet  paper. 
It  was  to  R.  Pigott,  Esq.  I  gave  this  paper  to  this  Roger  Rogers. 
But  unfortunately  he  told  a  villain  of  the  name  of  Witicam,  who 
communicated  with  the  prison  authorities,  and  the  result  was  that 
I  was  dragged  out  of  my  cell  on  a  Sunday  night,  and  taken  to  the 
Governor's  office,  and  stripped  to  the  skin,  and  got  another  suit  of 
clothes,  and  was  taken  to  the  separate  cells.  All  the  time  they  were 
taking  me  I  wanted  to  know  what  it  was  for.  They  told  me  I  knew 
all  about  it.     So  they  locked  me  up. 

The  next  day  I  was  brought  before  the  Governor  and  charged 
with  clandestinely  corresponding  with  Fenians.  Of  course  I  denied 
all  about  it,  so  I  was  sent  back  to  my  cell  to  wait  for  the  Director ; 
but  next  day  I  was  brought  before  him  again  for  dirty  tins  and  got 
three  days'  bread  and  water. 

Captain  Harvey,  the  Deputy- Governor,  came  to  see  me  every 
day,  with  four  or  five  officers,  and  made  me  stand  to  attention,  of 
course.  I  used  to  ask  him  what  I  was  here  for,  and  he  told  me  I 
knew  all  about  it.  He  would  say  every  morning,  "Come,  O'Hara, 
I  want  you  to  make  it  simple  and  clear  and  get  out  of  it."  But  I 
had  the  one  tale — I  had  nothing  to  make  clear  or  simple.  I  knew 
very  well  they  could  do  nothing  to  me ;  they  found  nothing  on  me. 

But  Rogers  paid  dearly  for  not  keeping  his  own  counsel.  They 
found  the  note  on  him,  and,  of  course,  they  would  punish  him  for  it. 

So  I  had  the  old  parson  at:  .me,  likewise  Captain  Fagan,  to  tell 
all  about  it ;  but  I  told  them  I  knew  nothing  about  it,  and,  if  I  did, 
I  would  swing  like  Barrett  did  in  May,  at  Newgate,  before  Iwould 
sell  my  poor  unfortunate  countrymen.  So  they  left  me  in  my  cell 
to  undergo  punishment. 

I  remember  seeing  some  of  the  State  prisoners  exercising  on 
Monday,  the  14th  of  December,  1?68,  in  the  yard,  when  their  atten- 
tion was  drawn  to  a  place  in  the  corner  of  the  yard  where  three  un- 
fortunates were  after  getting  the  whip.     I  was  doing  three  days  for 


308  O' ]  Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Life. 

not  finishing  my  oakum.  I  happened  to  look  through  the  venti* 
lator.  When  I  saw  some  State  prisoners  walking  around  the  yard 
I  could  not  help  giving  vent  to  my  feelings  by  shouting  through  the 
holes  in  the  sheet-iron  to  "  cheer  up."  I  had  no  sooner  shouted  than 
in  comes  the  principal  officer  and  caught  me.  He  said,  "  All  right, 
O'Hara."  I  got  another  dose  of  three  days ;  so  I  went  on  like  that 
for  twenty-nine  days  before  I  was  sent  to  Portsmouth.  I  was  not 
long  there  till  Harvey  was  made  Governor;  then  I  was  in  for  it. 
To  wind  up,  sir,  I  had  to  do  every  day  of  my  sentence,  which  ex- 
pired on  the  5th  of  this  month. 

I  was  convicted  of  "  manslaughter "  on  the  6th  of  December, 
1867,  so  I  thought  to  let  you  know  all  about  that  case. 

Father  O'Sullivan  used  to  visit  me  often.  I  hope,  dear  sir,  that 
you  will  excuse  this  writing,  and  send  me  a  reply  as  soon  as  you 
can  make  it  convenient. 

Give  my  respects  to  Costello.  I  hear  that  poor  Warren  is  dead ; 
the  Lord  have  mercy  on  him.  No  more  at  present  from  your  affec- 
tionate friend,  John  O'Hara. 

This  discovery  that  we  had  writing  materials  alarmed  the 
authorities,  and  they  set  their  wits  to  work  to  counteract  our 
efforts  to  get  our  case  before  the  public.  How  I  can  smile  at 
the  hypocrisy  of  those  English  legislators  when  I  find  them  talk- 
ing of  those  dark  dungeons  and  the  hideous  deeds  of  the  prisons 
of  other  nations,  while  theirs  is  open  to  the  public,  and  every- 
thing done  is  above  board.  What  did  they  do  now,  do  you 
think  ?  Simply  this :  they  kept  us  from  religious  service  nine  or 
ten  days,  during  which  time  they  were  making  a  doorway  in  the 
gable  end  of  the  chapel.  When  it  was  finished  we  were  admitted 
through  it  in  charge  of  the  warders,  and  place!  in  the  next  corner. 
Then  while  the  service  continued  our  keepers  sat  on  the  stools  in 
front  of  us,  their  backs  turned  towards  the  altar,  and  their  faces 
turned  towards  us.  A  properly  regulated  mind,  or  a  very  religious 
person  might  pray  under  such  circumstances,  but  I  candidly  confess 
that  I  could  not  show  much  signs  of  devotion  with  these  gentlemen 
<ooking  straight  into  my  face. 

And,  then,  when  any  of  our  party  went  to  Communion  there  was 
(fluch  a  parade  as  turned  the  whole  eyes  of  the  chapel  towards  them. 

The  communicants  amongst  the  other  prisoners,  who  were  up 
half  the  length  of  the  chapel  from  us,  were  allowed  to  approach  the 
altar  without  any  of  the  warders  stirring  from  their  seats;  but 
when  one  of  our  party  went  up  one  of  the  warders  followed  him 
through  the  chapel,  and  stood  over  him  with  his  club  or  his  sword 
drawn  while  he  was  receiving  the  Sacrament,  then  gave  him  the 
"right  about  face,"  and  followed  him  down  again  in  the  same 
fashion. 

It  was  the  most  ridiculous  exhibition  of  English  official  fear  ever 
witnessed,  and  would  be  ludicrous  were  it  not  in  connection  with 
religion. 


0  ''Donovan  Rosscfz  P*  ison  Life.  309 

And  more  than  that,  when  on  Gwd  Friday  there  is  a  ceremony 
of  kissing  the  cross,  every  oihe*-  *?#i*o&er  left  his  seat  and  went  up 
to  the  altar;  but,  regarding  us.  urde.rs  wen;  issued  that  we  should 
not  go  up,  but  that  the  priest  should  come  down,  and  down  through 
the  chapel  he  would  come  to  us. 

Then  when  we  were  leaving  or  going  to  chapel,  or  going  or 
coming  from  work,  one  of  the  three  officers  would  go  as  a  herald  be- 
fore us,  and,  when  he  turned  a  corner,  if  he  saw  any  one  in  sight  he 
would  turn  back  and  order  us  to  halt,  and  go  forward  again  and 
order  the  others  to  retreat  or  get  out  of  view.  It  often  afforded  us 
amusement  to  see  the  fix  they  were  in  occasionally.  Our  vidette 
would  come  in  view  of  a  brigade  of  cooks,  a  brigade  of  dish-washers, 
a  brigade  of  tray-carriers,  and  several  other  brigades  that  had  to  de 
ploy  in  the  yard  through  which  we  had  to  pass  before  and  after  meal 
times.  Doors  had  to  be  reopened,  and  steps  had  to  be  retraced,  but 
sometimes  this  strategic  genius  failed,  and  the  whole  party  could 
not  disperse  in  conseqiu  nee  of  some  avenue  having  been  shut  up  and 
the  key-holder  gone.  Then,  after  a  council  of  war,  it  would  be  de- 
cided that  those  remaining  on  the  field  should  turn  their  faces  to  the 
wall  and  do  us  the  honor  of  turning  their  backs  upon  us  as  we  passed 
their  lines. 

If  England  had  treated  us  rightly  she  would  not  be  so  scared  at 
having  our  treatment  known. 

Her  first  policy  was  to  mix  us  up  with  her  criminals ;  to  rub  us 
up  close  to  them,  so  as  it  were  that  we  should  feel  degradation. 

Now  we  had  changed  all  that  to  such  an  extent  that  she  would 
not  allow  one  of  them  to  look  at  us,  so  much  afraid  was  she  that 
some  sign  or  signal  would  be  given  to  convey  to  the  world  an  ac- 
count of  her  assassin  treatment  of  us.  We  had  all  along  been  fight- 
ing against  being  associated  with  thieves  and  murderers,  at  least  I 
had  been,  and  had  forced  her,  in  spite  of  her  teeth,  to  keep  us  sep- 
arated. 

During  the  time  the  door  was  being  broken  in  the  gable 
end  of  the  chapel  we  had  some  slight  skirmishing  against  the  disci- 
pline. The  priest  would  visit  us  every  morning  after  he  gave  the  reg- 
ular service  ;  our  doors  were  opened  and  we  were  ordered  to  come 
into  the  hall  to  pray.  Halpin,  Warren,  and  Burke  and  Costello  re- 
fused to  leave  their  cells.  They  said  it  was  a  mockery  of  religion  to 
pray  where  three  open  water-closets  were  conveniently  in  view,  and 
while  there  was  the  ordinary  chapel  for  all  the  prisoners. 

I  came  out  and  knelt  down,  and  Henry  Mulleda  came  out. 
I  think  Costello  and  Rick  Burke  left  their  doors  open  and  knelt 
down  in  their  cells  while  the  priest  prayed  outside,  but  Warren  and 
Halpin  would  not  give  any  countenance  to  this  exceptional  treat- 
ment, and  slammed  out  their  doors  as  soon  as  the  warders  opened 
them.  This  continued  for  ten  or  eleven  days,  when  the  chapel  was 
ready  to  receive  us,  and  then  we  were  led  there  and  kept  there  in 
the  fashion  I  have  already  described.  _ 


310  C Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

In  January,  1869,  Augustine  Costello  was  taken  away  from  us, 
and  on  the  4th  of  March  John  Warren  got  his  marching  orders. 
We  had  not  as  much  as  a  good-bye  with  them.  The  six  of  us  went 
into  dinner  one  day,  and  we  came  out  without  Costello.  During 
dinner  hour  he  was  removed  from  his  own  cell  to  one  under  mine. 
I  heard  the  clank  of  chains,  and  by-and-by,  hearing  some  knocking 
on  the  wall,  I  learned  that  he  was  in  irons  and  going  to  be  taken 
somewhere.  There  happened  to  be  a  writ  of  error  in  his  case.  He 
was  taken  to  Dublin,  and  two  months  after  he  was  released  from 
prison. 

We  were  working  at  brick-cleaning  one  morning  when  a  warder 
called  out,  "  Warren,  come  on  this  way."  Warren  went  on,  and 
that  was  the  last  we  saw  of  him. 

Cleaning  bricks  was  far  more  unpleasant  work  than  splitting 
wood,  and  much  colder,  for  we  had  to  handle  them  in  frost  and 
snow. 

Besides  this,  we  were  located  in  a  shed  of  corrugated  iron  that 
was  specially  built  for  us,  and  so  constructed  that  we  could  not  get 
a  sight  of  any  one  passing  through  the  yard.  It  faced  the  high  wall 
of  the  prison,  so  that  not  a  ray  of  sunshine  could  enter  to  soften  the 
rigor  of  the  cold,  and  here  we  were  kept  clipping  the  old  mortar  off 
of  bricks  from  day-dawn  until  nightfall.  Halpin  called  it  the  re- 
frigerator, and,  if  you  were  hard-hearted  enough  to  laugh  at  a  free 
American  citizen  bound  down  to  his  best  behavior  in  an  English 
prison  because  of  his  conduct  in  America,  you  could  laugh  at  Halpin 
hopping  from  one  foot  to  another  to  warm  his  toes,  while  his  hands 
beat  time  with  his  brick-chopper ;  but  he  did  not  stand  it  long. 
Laying  down  his  chopper  one  morning,  he  turned  to  the  warder  and 
said: 

"  Mr.  Mabbot,  the  cup  of  my  affliction  has  flown  over." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Halpin  ?" 

"  I  mean  to  do  no  more  of  this  work.  This  refrigerator  is 
enough  to  kill  a  saint.     You  can  send  me  into  the  cells." 

"  What's  the  use  in  being  in  those  cells  ?  Might  you  not  as 
well  stay  as  you  are  and  try  and  spend  your  time  as  well  as  you 
can?" 

"  No,  I  can't  spend  any  more  time  this  way.  You  will  please 
send  me  in." 

"  I  don't  like  to  be  reporting  you.  If  you  feel  cold  take  an  oc- 
casional run  up  and  down  on  those  boards  in  front  of  the  shed, 
and  that  will  warm  you,  but  don't  be  going  into  those  cells." 

This  was  a  great  concession.  A  short  time  ago  Halpin's  words 
would  have  been  a  gross  breach  of  discipline,  severely  punishable, 
but  he  "joined  the  service  in  a  good  time,"  as  Mabbot  afterwards 
said,  and  his  bad  conduct  was  winked  at  on  this  occasion.  We 
prevailed  on  him  to  take  a  little  bit  of  a  run  to  warm  himself; 
then  each  of  us  took  a  similar  exercise,  and  Halpin  remained  in  oui 
company. 


(J  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  311 

He  had  caught  a  severe  cold  in  another  prison,  and  was  this 
time  affected  with  a  very  bad  cough.  At  night  and  all  through 
the  night,  we  could  hear  it  echoing  through  the  wards.  The  doctor 
sent  him  to  hospital,  but  his  doing  this  seemed  to  interfere  with  the 
existing  orders  to  keep  us  at  all  times  to  ourselves,  and  not  let  us  in 
view  of  any  other  prisoners.  An  iron  screen  was  put  outside  on  his 
hospital  cell  window  ;  but  this  did  not  seem  to  meet  the  requirements 
of  the  authorities,  and  Halpin  was  sent  back  to  us  after  a  few  days. 
During  the  three  winters  he  was  in  Chatham  this  cough  attacked  him, 
and  this  Dr.  Burns,  who  was  charged  with  torturing  and  paralyz- 
ing Daniel  Reddin,  would  not  give  him  any  hospital  treatment  other 
than  allowing  him  an  hospital  spittoon  in  his  cell,  in  order  that  he 
might  judge  how  the  cough  progressed,  from  the  increase  or  decrease 
of  the  quantity  of  blood  thrown  up. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


NEW    ARRIVALS JOHN   M'CLURE AMERICAN-BORN    IRISHMEN,   AND 

IRISH-BORN  "  SPRALLAREENS  " NEW  WORK STOCKING-MENDING 

"  FOX     AND     GEESE  " LIES     OF     BRUCE,    THE     SECRETARY     OF 

STATE SUPERSTITION    AND    THE     BIBLE  -HALPIN    "JOINING   THE 

SERVICE     IN    A     GOOD    TIME  " HE    STRIKES     WORK,    AND    KEEPS 

HIS    HAIR    ON    HIS    HEAD MR.    o'cONNELL's    SORE    FOOT   AND    DR. 

BURNS "  I    DON'T    LIKE    TO     BE     HERE    AT     ALL,"    AND    WARDER 

BROWNE THE    TIPPERARY    ELECTION   AND    THE    TERROR    OF   THE 

AUTHORITIES JOHN  MITCHEL'S  REMARKS VISIT  FROM  m'cARTHY 

DOWNING,   M.   P. COLONEL    WARREN   AND    PATRICK'S     DAY THE 

SOLDIER     PRISONERS MR.     BLAKE,    M.  P.,     AND     AUSTRALIA MR, 

PIGOTT'S  AND  JOHN  F.   o'DONNELL's   VISIT MR.  A.  M.  SULLIVAN 

HIS  OPINIONS  ON  THE  "  COUP  D'ETAT,"  AND  MY  OPINIONS  ON  HIM, 
AND  ON   HIS  "  STORY  OF  IRELAND  " IRELAND  OVER  THE  WATER. 

When  we  came  in  from  the  refrigerator,  one  evening,  we  found 
that  three  additional  cells  of  our  ward  were  occupied,  and,  by 
knocking  on  the  walls,  discovered  there  were  new  arrivals  from 
Millbank.  Next  morning  I  was  orderly,  and,  as  I  was  on  my 
rounds,  I  had  a  shake  hands  with  John  Devoy  and  Captain  Charles 
Underwood  O'Connell.     I  did  not  know  the  other  arrival,  as  I  had 


312  O' } Donovan  Rosea? s  Prison  Life. 

never  met  him,  but  he  turned  out  to  be  John  M'Clure,  who  was  ar- 
rested fighting  by  the  side  of  O'Neill  Crowley,  at  Kilclooney  Wood, 
and  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 

This  John  M'Clure  was  born  in  America,  of  Irish  parents,  and, 
having  served  in  the  American  army,  he  came  to  Ireland  to  fight. 
He  was  the  most  unpretentious  of  any  one  of  the  men  that  came 
over ;  he  was  unassuming,  quiet,  and  inoffensive,  but  that  did  not 
prevent  him  from  doing  as  much  fighting  as  any  of  them.  Whether 
he  was  put,  or  put  himself,  in  the  way  of  it,  I  cannot  say.  Many 
Irishmen,  passing  judgment  upon  the  American-born  sons  of  our 
countrymen,  will  say  they  are  no  good  for  anything  connected  with 
the  Irish  cause;  but  if  they  could  be  judged  by  John  M'Clure,  I 
only  wish  that  all  Irishmen  in  and  out  of  Ireland  were  born  and 
reared  as  he  was,  so  that  the  cowards  and  sprallareens  of  our  race 
may  grow  up  brave  and  decent  men.  And  nowhere  do  this  coward- 
ice and  meanness  spring  into  more  luxurious  growth  than  in  Amer- 
ica. The  man  who  was  a  slave  at  heart  in  the  old  land,  when  he 
comes  here  finds  himself  rid  of  those  necessities  that  educated  him 
into  subserviency  at  home. 

But  what  use  does  he  make  of  his  adventitious  freedom?  Does 
he  avail  of  it  to  further  the  cause  that  he  was  afraid  to  touch  in  the 
old  land  ?  No :  he  becomes  a  blatant,  parading  patriot ;  a  kind  of 
buailumskehj  beating  the  bushes  and  wearing  green  scarfs  and  rib- 
bons to  show  there  is  no  man  braver  than  he ;  but  to  make  his  ac- 
tion here  consistent  with  his  conduct  there,  he  is  the  first  to  sneer  at 
any  practical  work  in  the  line  of  what  is  known  as  Fenianism  ;  he 
will  have  much  sympathy  with  the  "  poor  servant-girls  who  have 
been  cheated  out  of  their  hard-earned  dollars,"  and  he  will  denounce 
the  "  swindlers  and  vagabonds  who  have  cheated  the  people,"  as  a 
knavish  excuse  for  his  doing  nothing  for  the  people's  cause. 

M'Clure,  Halpin,  Devoy,  Burke,  O'Connell,  Mulleda  and  myself 
worked  for  a  few  days  in  the  refrigerators ;  but  then  one  of  the  di- 
rectors visited  the  prison,  and  arrangements  were  made  that  we  be 
kept  at  work  inside  in  our  punishment  ward.  The  Governor  had 
his  adjudication  room  here,  and  over  this  court-house  was  a  small 
room,  about  twelve  by  eight,  into  which  we  seven  were  put,  with 
two  warders  in  charge  of  us.  Our  occupation  was  mending  the 
stockings  of  all  the  other  prisoners ;  these  were  given  to  us  after 
being  washed,  but  after  we  turned  them  inside  out  such  a  quantity 
of  sand  and  dust  escaped  from  them  as  nearly  suffocated  us.  Nine  of 
us  were  cooped  up  in  this  small  space ;  the  Summer  came  on  in  a  few 
months,  and,  after  repeated  protests  to  the  doctor  and  Governor, 
we  got  them  to  take  down  a  partition  that  divided  us  from  another 
small  room,  which  change  made  the  quarters  more  airy  and  less  dis- 
agreeable. 

Halpin  struck  work,  and  refused  to  darn  any  more  stockings  in 
consequence  of  being  refused  the  privilege  of  some  letters  and  visits 
which  tie  rules  accorded  to  ordinary  prisoners.     He  got  three  days 


CP  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  313 

on  bread  and  water  for  the  first  refusal,  but  that  did  not  prevent 
him  from  laying  down  his  darning-needle  again  when  the  warder 
handed  it  to  him  on  the  fourth  morning.  We  thought  his  punish- 
ment was  to  continue  for  such  a  gross  offense,  but  it  did  not ;  the 
authorities  were  by  this  time  pretty  tired  and  sick  of  their  attempts 
to  civilize  us  by  ill-treatment,  and  they  let  Halpin  alone.  Every 
morning  his  needle  and  thread  were  handed  to  him  ;  he  graciously 
received  them  from  the  hands  of  the  warder,  and  as  graciously  laid 
them  down  on  the  stool  as  soon  as  he  got  them.  Then  he  occupied 
his  time  and  amused  us  by  telling  stories  all  clay  long.  His  bad  and 
idle  example  had  an  evil  influence  on  myself,  and  I  suggested  that 
we  would  invent  something  else  to  kill  time.  It  would  be  pleasant 
if  we  had  a  draught-board,  but,  as  we  had  not,  we  fashioned  one 
by  making  a  "  fox  and-geese  "  on  the  stool,  and  we  made  men  out 
of  bits  of  coal  and  scraps  of  paper. 

An  attack  was  made  upon  me  on  account  of  playing  with  Hal- 
pin,  but  I  never  heeded  it.  I  worked  a  little  and  played  a  little  ;  I 
did  not  like  to  appear  to  be  too  daring,  or  to  be  playing  drafts  in 
defiance  of  the  rules,  and  as  we  heard  the  Governor  or  other  supe- 
rior authority  coming  up-stairs,  I  would  say,  "Now,  Hal,  let  us  draw 
a  veil  over  our  infirmities,"  and  one  of  us  would  spread  his  handker- 
chief over  the  fox  and  geese.  Of  course,  all  this  was  reported  to 
the  authorities,  but  as  they  winked  at  our  delinquency,  we  winked 
at  the  warder's  orders  to  "stop  that  game."  When  going  to  din- 
ner we  hid  our  "men"  in  a  stocking,  and  coming  back  we  would 
sometimes  find  them  stolen  away,  but  as  we  had  always  bits  of  coal, 
or  thread  or  paper  about  us,  we  would  make  new  men,  Halpin  jo- 
cosely grumbling  about  the  trouble  the  "thieves"  were  profitlessly 
putting  him  to. 

This  game  Vas  a  great  recreation  to  me.  The  pain  that  trou- 
bled me  in  the  back  became  very  intense  at  times.  It  became  more 
and  more  lively  according  as  I  allowed  my  mind  to  dwell  on  any 
of  the  serious  matters  that  affected  me  in  the  world,  and  I  had  no 
escape  from  suffering  but  to  fly  away  with  my  thoughts  to  some- 
thing trifling.  Either  that  or  something  hostile  to  the  powers  that 
governed  us  :  but  while  they  let  us  alone  I  was  content  to  let  them 
alone,  and  live  a  life  of  peace. 

State  Secretary  Bruce,  when  questioned  about  this  time  as  to  my 
ill-treatment  in  prison,  said  in  his  place  in  Parliament,  that  I  was 
now  the  quietest  man  in  the  prison,  and  hoped  that  that  would  sat- 
isfy Sir  John  Gray  and  the  other  inquirers.  Here  is  the  passage  as 
I  find  it  reported  in  the  Irishman  of  June  12f.h,  1869  : 

"Another  statement  is  that  his  appearance  is  quite  changed,  and 
that  he  has  suffered  very  much  from  his  confinement.  Since  he  be- 
came an  inmate  of  Chatham  Prison  his  weight  has  increased  from 
163J  to  1 71  lbs.  (Laughter.)  His  general  health  is  now  stated  to 
be  good,  and  he  is  reported  to  have  the  appearance  of  a  man  who  is 
in  excellent  health.     After  what  I  have  given  of  this  unfortunate 


314  O }  Donovan  Itussas  Prison  Life, 

man's  career  [looking  over  his  speech,  I  find  he  was  after  telling 
twenty-four  direct  lies  of  me],  it  is  a  real  pleasure  to  say  that  since 
September,  1868,  the  date  of  his  last  offence,  his  conduct  has  greatly 
improved,  and  he  has  not  incurred  any  punishment.  Captain  Du 
Cane,  in  visiting  the  prison,  told  liossa  that  his  conduct  had  been 
outrageous  and  disgraceful  [yes,  and  Rossa  returned  him  the  com- 
pliment], and  that  he  was  astonished  that  a  man  of  his  position 
should  have  been  guilty  of  it.  Since  then  not  only  had  Donovan 
behaved  well  and  received  no  punishment,  but  Captain  Powell  said, 
'  Of  all  the  Fenian  prisoners  now  under  confinement  he  is  the  best 
behaved.'  I  trust  that  this  statement  of  itself  will  be  considered 
satisfactory  by  my  honorable  friend. 

"Sir  John  Gray  was  understood  to  express  his  satisfaction  with 
the  statement  which  had  been  made." 

This  was  an  easy  way  to  get  rid  of  a  vexatious  question ;  but, 
while  I  was  the  quietest  man  in  the  prison  when  playing  a  game  of 
"  Bohea  "  with  Halpin,  I  had  my  eyes  open  to  the  necessity  of  let- 
ting the  outside  world  know  there  was  a  time  when  Mr.  Bruce  gave 
me  very  little  chance  of  keeping  quiet,  and  when  he  and  all  his 
agents  were  disposed  to  be  very  cross  to  me. 

I  joked  occasionally  with  the  officers  on  the  change  of  treatment, 
and  it  is  notorious  that  we  always  had  the  strictest — the  most  "re- 
liable" ones,  as  the  Governor  said — placed  over  us.  Andrews,  who 
was  never  knowm  to  smile  in  the  presence  of  a  convict,  would  laugh 
at  our  stories  and  tell  us  laughable  superstitious  ones  when  he 
found  the  rules  relaxed  in  our  regard.  He  was  an  old  Englishman, 
but  he  wras  as  full  of  old  superstition  as  any  old  woman  I  ever  kntw. 
He  himself  cured  wTarts  and  evils,  and  warded  off  many  impending 
misfortunes  by  manipulating  brambles  and  bushes,  and  burying  bits 
of  meat  and  cloth. 

When  I  was  working  with  the  thieves  I  listened  long  one  day  as 
three  of  them  were  talking  of  the  Bible,  and  I  was  surprised  to  learn 
that  their  faith  in  it  was  of  a  nature  that  some  would  call  supersti- 
tious., Old  Mr.  //est,  who  was  one  of  the  three,  said  he  read  a  part 
of  the  Bible  every  day,  and  did  not  think  he  would  have  any  luck 
if  he  didn't.  The  young  fellow,  who  swore  "  by  Christy  he  would 
make  some  one  pay  outside  for  the  way  he  was  treated  in  prison," 
said  he  did  not  read,  but  as  he  kept  it  in  his  cell  he  had  the  benefit 
of  it,  and  in  that  belief  he  always  kept  a  Bible  among  his  clothes  in 
a  trunk  when  he  wTas  in  the  world.  The  third,  who  w\as  a  sailor, 
told  a  similar  story,  and  then  several  cases  were  adduced  where  the 
Bible  in  a  man's  trunk  saved  him  from  danger,  and  where  many 
mothers  put  the  Holy  Book  in  their  children's  trunks  when  prepar- 
ing for  a  voyage  or  a  long  journey.  One  story  wTas  told  of  the  es- 
cape of  a  man  that  must  have  been  miraculous.  He  wTas  no  sailor 
and  could  not  swrim,  yet  he  was  washed  ashore,  while  numbers  of 
hardy  seamen  and  expert  swimmers  were  drowned.  When  he  com- 
municated with  home  he  learned  that   his  mother  had,  unknown  to 


(J Donovan  Rosses  Prison  Life.  315 

him,  put  a  small  Bible  in  a  corner  of  his  trunk,  and  it  was  that 
saved  him.  When  this  belief  is  so  strong  in  the  minds  of  the  Eng- 
lish Protestant  peasantry,  I  wonder  that  they  cast  so  much  ridicule 
on  the  belief  that  Catholics  have  in  the  protecting  agency  of  scap- 
ulars, Agnus  Deis,  and  other  religious  emblems  of  their  faith.  I  rea- 
soned this  with  those  thieves,  with  a  Ariew  to  make  them  more  toler- 
ant, for  they  had  very  strange  ideas  about  Irish  principles — so 
strange  that  they  thought  our  movement  was  nothing  more  than  a 
conspiracy  among  the  Catholics  to  kill  Protestants.  I  thought  it  well 
to  make  so  free  with  them  as  to  correct  this  notion  of  theirs,  and  when 
they  found  I  was  so  tolerant  in  my  religious  opinions  as  to  allow  peo- 
ple who  differed  from  me  a  chance  of  going  to  Heaven,  they  pro- 
nounced me  a  fair  man,  and  "Fenianism"  a  different  thing  from 
what  they  thought  it.  I  should  not  mind  to  spend  another  year 
of  my  life  in  prison,  if  the  authorities  gave  me  the  run  of  the  twelve 
or  fourteen  thousand  convicts  they  hold  in  England.  Even  though 
they  are  thieves  and  Thugs,  they,  in  their  way,  represent  a  certain 
opinion,  and  it  would  be  worth  while  to  disabuse  them  of  the  preju- 
dices against  Irish  independence  that  are  instilled  into  them  by  our 
enemies — and  by  theirs  in  a  certain  sense. 

It  was  well  understood  in  our  prison  that  any  warder  placed  in 
charge  of  us  was  on  the  way  to  promotion  if  he  traveled  that  way 
to  the  satisfaction  of  his  masters.  Since  my  arrival  in  Chatham,  the 
fellow  that  had  drawn  the  blood  from  my  hands,  and  the  fellow  that 
had  torn  the  clothes  off  my  limbs,  and  kicked  and  trampled  me  in 
the  blackhole,  had  received  the  reward  of  their  faithful  services. 
Pepper  and  Mabbott,  who  were  with  us  before  Andrews — the  pish- 
ogue man — had  received  those  yellow  bands  on  their  caps  which  in- 
dicated their  promotion  to  the  rank  of  principals.  In  Mabbott' s  and 
Andrew's  time  the  test  of  faithful  service  was  not  so  much  to  worry 
us  about  work  as  to  keep  us  so  much  to  ourselves,  and  so  far  from 
getting  a  look  at  anyone  else  as  would  render  it  impossible  for  any- 
one outside  the  prison  to  know  anything  about  us.  These  were  the 
times  the  Government  were  lying  in  Parliament  about  our  treatment, 
and  sending  down  their  Commissioners  to  the  prison  to  manufacture 
lying  reports  to  be  read  in  Parliament  concerning  us.  After  Mab- 
bott was  promoted  from  our  charge  he  got  the  privilege  of  calling 
to  inspect  us  every  day.  At  one  of  those  visits  he  asked  Halpin 
didn't  he  resume  work  yet,  and,  on  getting  a  reply  in  the  negative, 
I  smilingly  said  : 

"  Halpin  must  have  some  friend  here,  Mr.  Mabbott,  that  is  sav- 
ing him  from  punishment.  If  it  was  I  was  to  strike  work  that  way, 
how  soon  you'd  order  me  off  to  the  dark  cells." 

"  Ah,    Rossa,  Halpin  joined  the  service  in  a  good  time." 

On  Sundays,  before  we  went  to  chapel,  we  were  paraded  for  in- 
spection by  the  doctor,  and  some  of  our  company  were  already  get- 
ting so  rebellious  as  to  refuse  to  take,  off  their  caps  when  this  gen- 
tleman appeared.     Halpin  and  Captain  O'Connell  commenced  the 


316  O*  Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life. 

fun  and  kept  it  going  for  a  few  Sundays ;  some  one  or  two  joined 
in,  but  I  always  obeyed  the  order  of  "  Hats  off"  till  the  whole  of  us 
came  to  an  understanding  that  it  should  not  be  obeyed,  and  that  if 
they  commenced  giving  us  bread  and  water  for  our  disobedience  we 
should  stand  it  to  the  point  of  starvation  rather  than  uncover  our- 
selves for  this  gentleman.  Next  Sunday,  when  the  doctor  appeared, 
he  stood  before  us  and  Alison  cried,  "  Hats  off,"  but  the  hats  re- 
mained on.  "Hats  off!"  again  roared  he,  in  a  voice  that  made  my 
body  tremble,  but  not  a  hat  of  the  seven  stirred.  I  was  glad  in  my 
heart  at  this  spirited  stand  of  the  caubeens.  The  doctor  and  his 
attendants  wheeled  off,  we  were  wheeled  into  chapel,  and  I  had 
much  difficulty  in  muffling  my  laughter  during  prayers  when  think- 
ing of  the  ridiculous  figure  the  officials  cut  in  presence  of  our  rebel- 
lious bonnets.  And  you  should  see  how  proudly  and  defiantly  those 
"hats"  stood.  If  you  had  only  one  laugh  in  the  world  you  should 
give  it  on  looking  at  the  one  that  Captain  O'Connell  commanded.  He 
had  it  so  firmly  pressed  on  his  head  that  it  nearly  covered  his  ears, 
and  you  would  think  the  hat  and  head  were  inseparable — one  could 
not  be  taken  off  without  the  other.  There  had  been  several  previous 
skirmishes  with  the  doctor,  in  some  of  which  he  would  appeal  to  me, 
as  being  "a  reasonable  man."  This  was  amusing,  considering  the 
time  I  had  previously  given  them. 

Warren  and  Halpin  refusing  to  have  their  hair  cut,  Alison  di- 
rected the  doctor's  special  attention  to  their  heads  at  one  of  these 
special  parades,  and  the  doctor  said  to  me,  pointing  to  Halpin's 
crop,  "Now,  Rossa,  you're  a  reasonable  man  (he  saw  my  head 
cropped  to  the  scalp),  don't  you  think  he  has  too  much  hair  on  ?" 

I  smiled  the  reply.  "  Ah,  doctor,  you  must  excuse  me  for  not 
giving  an  opinion  on  the  question." 

Captain  O'Connell  elicited  from  him  the  strangest  admission  I 
ever  heard  a  medical  man  make. 

He  was  lamed  from  the  heavy  boots  he  wore,  and  he  asked  Dr. 
Burns  if  he  would  allow  him  to  wear  his  Sunday  shoes,  instead  of 
the  working-day  boots  ? 

"  No,"  said  the  doctor,  "  unless  your  leg  is  sore." 
"My  leg  is  ,so  sore  that  I  cannot  well  walk  with  these  heavy 
boots." 

"  Can  you  show  me  a  sore — is  there  a  hole  in  it  ?" 
"  No ;  but  I  am  sure  it  will  get  sore  if  I  am  obliged  to  wear  the 
boots." 

"  Well,  when  you  can  show  me  a  sore  in  it  I'll  try  and  cure  it." 
"  But  is  not  prevention  better  than  cure,  doctor  ?" 
"  Yes ;  but  in  some  cases  we  are  not  allowed  to  prevent." 
He  actually  made  use  of  these  very  words ;  and,  it  appears,  he 
spoke  in  the  spirit  of  those  who  order  the  government  of  these  Eng- 
lish prisons — the  be-praised  model  prisons  of  the  world.     The  "  dis- 
cipline" is  sure  to   work  a   refractory  prisoner  into   a   premature 
death,  and  the  disciplined  doctor  will  not  interfere  with  the  course 


0 }  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  317 

of  punishment  until  he  sees  there  is  no  recalling  the  victim  from 
the  grave.  Then  he  will  take  him  to  the  hospital  and  do  what  he 
can  to  smooth  the  last  few  paces  of  his  journey.  An  inquest  is 
held,  and  evidence  is  given  to  prove  that  the  man  had  beef -tea,  and 
mutton-chop,  and  chicken,  and  chicken-broth,  and  every  delicacy 
that  could  be  given  beneficially  to  the  man's  health,  but  there  is 
nothing  to  show  how  his  health  was  destroyed.  f 

Darragh,  of  Ballycastle,  a  friend  of  mine,  who  died  in  Portland 
Prison,  was  "sat  upon"  by  twelve  of  these  prison  pensioners,  and 
Roupel,  the  forger,  who  was  an  hospitnl  nurse,  was  brought  for- 
ward to  prove  that  before  he  died  he  had  everything  he  wished  to 
have.  The  public  little  knew  the  foul  work  behind  this  bright 
picture. 

"The  public  like  to  be  deceived,"  says  some  old  writer,  and  so  it 
seems,  when  the  world  regards  these  English  prisons  as  models  of 
perfection,  and  those  who  manage  them  the  most  humane  and  kind 
creatures  in  creation. 

There  was  one  officer  named  Brown  who  never  missed  an  op- 
portunity of  annoying  me.  He  was  one  of  those  who  made  the 
handcuffs  bite  me  when  putting  them  on,  and  now  that  there  must 
have  been  special  orders  to  let  us  alone,  he  could  not  refrain  from 
issuing  orders  to  me  which  he  knew  I  would  not  obey.  After  sup- 
per every  evening  you  have  in  winter  times  two  or  three  hours  in 
your  cell  before  you  are  allowed  to  go  to  bed.  During  this  time  I 
read,  and,  to  make  myself  a  little  comfortable,  I  laid  my  mattress 
on  the  floor,  and  pillowed  it  up  against  the  block.  It  was  a  most 
luxurious  seat,  and,  with  my  back  thus  cushioned  and  turned  to  the 
gaslight,  I  was  quite  at  home. 

But  Brown  would  not  let  me  enjoy  myself  in  peace.  He  was  on 
night  duty,  and  he'd  open  my  door  and  order  me  to  settle  up  my 
bed  in  its  proper  place.  My  only  reply  to  him  would  be,  "Ah,  Gov- 
ernor, I  don't  like  to  be  here  at  all." 

"  Do  you  hear  me  telling  you  to  put  up  your  bed  ?" 

"  Ah,  Governor,  I  don't  like  to  be  here  at  all." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  the  rules  forbid  you  to  lay  down  vour  bed 
till  the  bell  rings  ?" 

"  Ah,  Governor,  I  don't  like  to  be  here  at  all." 

After  giving  him  this  answer  a  couple  of  times,  if  he  continued 
worrying  me,  I  remained  silent  till  he  got  tired,  and  shut  the  door. 
Next  night  he'd  come  again  repeating  the  same  thing,  and  receiving 
the  same  return. 

If  I  spoke  insolently  to  this  fellow  he'd  be  only  too  glad,  for 
then  he  could  make  a  big  report  against  me,  and  insolently  he  de- 
served to  be  spoken  to ;  but  as  I  was  otherwise  allowed  to  live  in 
peace  I  did  not  want  to  rouse  myself  up  on  account  of  the  officious- 
ness  of  this  small  creature,  and  I  therefore  treated  him  with  my 
sovereign  convict  contempt.  I  had  great  fun  with  him  one  morning 
when  I  was  on  the  black  books.     My.  sleeping  place  the  night  before 


318  O "Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life. 

was  the  blackhole,  and  when  he  came  in  the  morning  to  ask  me  to 
put  out  the  mattress  and  blankets  I  told  him  the  night  was  not 
passed  yet,  and  that  I  would  stay  in  bed  till  daybreak. 

"  Get  up  out  of  that,  I  say,  and  put  out  your  bed  at  once." 

"  Now,  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  let  me  sleep  the  night  in 
peace." 

"  Don't  you  see  it  is  day — did  n't  you  hear  the  bell  ring  ?" 

"  If  it  is  day,  why  have  you  that  lantern  in  your  hand  ?  Don't 
you  see  there  is  no  light  here  ?" 

"  Get  up,  or  I'll  report  you  at  once." 

"  You  may  report  me  as  much  as  you  like,  but  I  will  not  get  up 
until  it  is  day." 

When  a  prisoner  refuses  to  obey  orders  in  this  part  of  the  prison, 
three  or  four  officers  have  to  be  brought  to  force  him  into  his  duty, 
and  the  required  number  could  not  be  got  together  until  about  ten 
o'clock,  so  that  I  cheated  them  out  of  three  or  four  hours  of  punish- 
ment. Then  they  came  into  my  cell,  and  when  I  would  not  get  out 
of  bed  "  till  daybreak,"  they  pulled  the  mattress  clean  from  under 
me. 

In  November,  '69,  it  was  made  manifest  to  us  that  something 
extraordinary  had  occurred  in  the  world  which  called  for  the  most 
extreme  vigilance  regarding  us.  The  exercise  we  got  in  the  open 
air  every  day  was  not  given  to  us  in  the  usual  place,  nor  was  it 
given  in  the  same  place  to  us  any  two  consecutive  days.  One  time 
we  were  taken  into  a  small  yard  behind  the  hospital,  to  get  one  hour's 
airing.  Another  time  into  a  passage-way,  between  two  buildings, 
and  occasionally  into  a  small  enclosure  between  two  gates  and  two 
high  walls,  where  the  walking  around  produced  a  megrim  in  the 
head.  Halpin  suggested  that  we  would  unwind  ourselves  every  five 
minutes,  and  we  acted  on  the  suggestion,  trying  to  counteract  the 
dizzying  effect  of  the  circular  motion,  by  making  a  right  about  face, 
and  walking  the  contrary  way  around,  until  another  change  be- 
came necessary.  The  secret  of  our  being  treated  this  way  was  that 
the  Tipperary  election  had  taken  place ;  the  rebel  spirit  there  had 
chosen  me  as  its  representative,  and  a  rumor  had  gone  abroad  that 
I  and  my  companions  were  to  be  rescued. 

Hence  the  prison  authorities  were  in  the  greatest  alarm.  They 
could  not  even  bring  themselves  to  trust  their  own  employees,  and, 
lest  any  warder  could  be  able  to  tell  the  attacking  party  where  the 
prisoners  could  be  found  exercising  any  particular  day,  our  exercise 
ground  was  changed  every  day. 

The  Government  were  really  alarmed,  and  they  took  all  possible 
precautions  to  secure  us.  They  put  extra  locks  upon  our  doors  at 
night,  and  extra  guards  around  our  cells.  If  the  citadel  were  be- 
sieged we  could  not  have  been  more  vigilantly  surrounded. 

This  was  ridiculous ;  but  those  who  mean  to  fight  England  may 
take  one  or  two  lessons  from  it — first,  as  regards  acting  on  her  fears, 
and  the  measures  that  are  necessary  to  strike  terror  into  her,  and, 


O*  Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life,  319 

secondly,  as  to  the  precautions  and  provisions  that  are  requisite  for 
protection  against  surprise  and  defeat. 

In  spite  of  all  the  arts  resorted  to  to  keep  us  in  the  dark,  we  had 
a  line  of  wires  laid  down  that  kept  us  pretty  well  acquainted  with 
what  was  going  on  in  the  world,  and  we  knew  of  the  Tipperary 
election  before  it  was  officially  made  known  to  us  in  the  following 
manner : 

The  Governor  of  the  prison  sent  for  me,  and,  holding  a  sheet  »>f 
paper  in  his  hand,  said,  "  I  am  instructed  to  inform  you  by  the 
Secretary  of  State  that  the  county  of  Tipperary  has  elected  you  a 
member  of  Parliament ;  but  I  am  also  desired  by  him  to  tell  you 
that  that  is  in  no  way  to  change  your  prison  treatment." 

I  affected  a  little  surprise,  and,  after  some  humorous  observations, 
I  told  him  he  may  as  well  take  down  my  name  to  see  the  Director  in 
order  that  I  may  ask  that  gentleman  to  have  me  transferred  to  Mill- 
bank  Prison,  so  that  I  would  be  convenient  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and  be  able  to  attend  to  my  Parliamentary  duties  at  night 
after  picking  my  bit  of  oakum  during  the  day. 

The  Director  came,  and  I  joked  with  him  also  on  the  matter. 
"  Now,"  said  he,  "  take  my  advice  and  don't  have  anything  to  say 
to  the  authorities.  You  are  getting  on  well  lately,  and  you  should 
do  nothing  to  injure  yourself  if  they  were  disposed  to  consider  your 
case  favorably.  If  you  take  my  advice,  you  will  keep  silent."  As  he 
seemed  to  speak  kindly,  I  spoke  seriously,  and,  thanking  him,  said 
I  would  take  the  matter  quietly.  The  Government  were  annoyed 
enough  at  what  had  occurred  without  my  trying  to  annoy  them  more. 
With  the  officers  I  assumed  the  influence  of  a  live  member  of  Parlia- 
ment. I  was  to  have  some  of  the  good  ones  promoted,  and  the  bad 
ones  reduced  to  a  probation  of  convict  life. 

John  Devoy  was  to  have  a  tide-waitership  from  me  if  my  constit- 
uents permitted  me  to  take  any  such  favors. 

One  or  two  of  my  companions  took  the  matter  seriously,  and 
thought  I  would  be  really  taken  before  the  House.  They  kept  dis- 
cussing what  I  was  to  do — whether  I  would  take  the  oaths,  or  re- 
fuse to  take  them  ;  become  a  member,  or  continue  a  rebel. 

If  this  were  worth  a  serious  thought — if  I  were  taken  before  the 
House,  I  think  I  would  be  found  talking  Irish  to  them,  and  it  they 
would  not  understand  me — why  !  let  them  get  an  interpreter. 

I  was  an  Irishman,  represented  an  Irish  county,  and  had  a  right 
to  be  heard  in  the  language  of  my  country.  This  may  be  a  new 
idea  for  the  members  who  are  now  discussing  what  is  the  best  thing 
for  them  to  do  in  the  House ;  whether  to  vote  or  not  to  vote,  whether 
to  go  there  or  remain  away  altogether.  Let  them  speak  Irish,  and 
insist  on  speaking  it  in  the  House.  That  may  be  thought  ridiculous, 
but  it  is  not  a  bit  more  ridiculous  than  to  think  the  votes  of  a 
hundred  Irish  members  can  get  an  independent  Irish  Government 
against  the  votes,  and  the  prejudices,  and  the  interests  of  five  or  six 
hundred  English   and  Scotch  members.     If  a  London  Parliament 


320  C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

ever  grants  the  "  Home  Rule "  to  Irishmen,  it  will  be  just  such 
another  sham  as  the  "Tenant  Right"  she  grants  to  Irish  tenants. 
This  Tipperary  election  was,  to  my  mind,  the  grandest  thing  of  the 
kind  that  ever  occurred  in  Ireland.    The  Clare  election  was  nothing 
to  it  as  a  protest  against  foreign  rule.     Here,  the  great  and  popular 
freeman,   O'Oonnell,   was  chosen  by  the  people ;  he  was  amongst 
the  people  and    addressed   them,  but  Tipperary  chose  a  man  who 
was  condemned  to  imprisonment  for  life,  who  was  dead  in  law, 
and  who  was    subjected  to  every  indignity  England    could  heap 
upon  him  in  his  living  grave.     There  was  no  compliment  intended 
to  me  in  this  matter.     I  felt  myself  no  better,  nor  did  the  people 
consider  me  better,  than  any  one  else.    The  whole  movement  was  a 
protest  against  Ei. gland,  and  a  defiance  to  her  Ministry  and  minis- 
tration.    Either  of  the  prisoners  was  as  worthy  of  being  chosen  as 
I;   yet,  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  feel  proud  of  being  the 
elect — of  being  considered  the  most  ill-treated  and  most  defiant  of 
the  convicted  felons.     John  Mitchel  says :  "  A  great  event  has  be- 
fallen in  Irish  history.    Tipperary  has  just  done  a  wiser  and  a  bolder 
deed   than  her  sister  county  of  Clare  achieved  forty  years  ago. 
That   Clare  election  won,  to  be  sure,  what   was   called   Catholic 
Emancipation,  for  the  Claremen  elected  the  disqualified  Catholic, 
O'Connell,  to  represent  them  in  Parliament.     Now  the  Tipperary- 
men  have  elected  the  disqualified  felon,  O'Donovan  Rossa,  in  his 
convict  cell — have  elected,  amongst  all  those  imprisoned  comrades, 
the  very  one  whom  England  most  specially  abhors — because  he  de- 
fied  and  denounced  the  most  loudly  her  government,  her  traitor 
judges,  and  her  packed  juries — elected  him  as  the  most  fit  and 
proper  person  to  represent  them." 

Just  so.  I  may  well  feel  proud  before  my  countrymen  of  having 
such  a  commendation  from  so  veteran  a  hater  of  English  rule  in  Ire- 
land as  John  Mitchel,  and  so  may  Tipperary. 

In  December,  '69,  our  company  came  to  be  reduced  by  the  re- 
moval from  amongst  us  of  Rick  Burke.  He  had  been  taking  medi- 
cine for  the  previous  week,  and  was  visibly  falling  away.  In  the 
end  he  seemed  to  imagine  that  poison  had  been  administered  to  him 
in  the  drugs,  and  he  was  spirited  away  from  us  one  morning  with- 
out one  knowing  where  he  was  taken.  A  few  days  before  his  re- 
moval, Dr.  Burns,  in  my  presence,  told  him  that  possibly  what  the 
matter  with  him  was  that  he  was  mentally  troubled  on  account  of 
his  crime.  Rick  told  him  he  was  not,  and  the  doctor  told  him  he 
should  be.  This  was  the  kind  of  medicine  we  occasionally  got  from 
these  doctors.  It  was  hard  for  a  man  to  keep  his  patience  with  them, 
and  only  for  the  large  stock  of  it  we  had  on  our  hands,  we  were  sure 
to  run  short  oftener  than  we  did. 

Having  learned  that  M'Carthy  Downing  of  Skibbereen  was  re- 
turned to  the  English  Parliament  from  Cork,  I  thought  it  would  be 
well  to  have  a  visit  from  him,  and  I  applied  to  the  Director  for  a 
ticket,  which  I  got,  and  sent  him.     My  idea  was  to  get  him  to  speak 


C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  321 

in  Parliament  about  having  my  letters  to  my  wife  suppressed.  The 
Government  would  then  state  that  this  was  done  because  I  had  told 
falsehoods  in  them,  and  if  I  could  have  the  letters  produced  and 
read,  I  would  have  attained  my  object  of  having  the  treatment  made 
known.  Mr.  Downing  visited  me  about  the  24th  of  March,  1869, 
and  [  told  for  what  purpose  I  sent  for  him.  He  seemed  to  be  full  of 
the  idea  of  getting  us  amnestied,  and  appeared  to  be  very  much  dis- 
pleased at  a  speech  that  Colonel  Warren  had  made  at  a  banquet  in 
Cork,  on  Patrick's  Day,  as  it  irritated  the  Government,  and  inter- 
fered with  our  release.  He  wished  I  would  express  my  disapproval 
of  Warren's  action,  but  this  I  would  not  do.  I  said  Warren  was 
accountable  for  his  own  acts,  and  if  he  said  or  did  anything  wrong, 
the  law  would  take  hold  of  him.  We  had  an  idea  before  Warren 
left  us  that  this  would  be  the  state  of  things  if  he  were  released. 
People  would  fetter  him  outside,  because  we  were  fettered  inside, 
and  we  distinctly  told  him  in  the  refrigerator  one  day,  to  tell  our 
friends  not  to  be  deterred  from  any  work  they  thought  proper  to  do 
in  the  cause,  by  a  fear  that  it  would  tend  to  keep  us  in  prison.  Eng- 
land would  keep  us  in  for  ever  if  she  thought  that  by  doing  so  she 
could  keep  Ireland  from  saying  or  doing  anything  hostile  against 
her.  In  the  same  way  would  she  hold  the  soldiers  she  still  holds  in 
chains  were  she  confident  that  keeping  them  would  keep  Ireland  and 
Irishmen  quiet. 

At  M'Carthy  Downing's  visit  he  asked  me  if  I  would  promise  to 
leave  the  country,  if  released  from  prison.  This  was  a  ticklish 
question  to  me.  I  told  him  I  was  sensitive  as  to  anything  being 
said  about  my  seeking  my  release  on  any  conditions,  or  about  his 
seeking  it  for  me. 

I  told  him  if  a  choice  was  given  me  of  going  to  Siberia,  and  being 
my  own  master,  1  would  prefer  to  go  there  to  remaining  where  I 
was,  but  that  I  would  promise  nothing.  After  a  lengthened  conver- 
sation on  the  matter,  I  said  if  he  gave  me  a  leaf  of  paper  I  would 
give  him  a  reply  to  his  question  in  writing,  and  the  Deputy -Gover- 
nor consenting  to  give  the  paper,  I  wrote  as  follows: 

"  Mr.  Downing,  in  answer  to  your  question  as  to  whether  I 
would  leave  the  country  or  not  if  released  from  prison,  I  reply  that 
I  would,  and  also  with  the  understanding  that  if  found  in  Ireland 
or  England  again,  without  the  permission  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment, I  render  myself  liable  to  be  recommitted  to  prison." 

I  would  not  promise  not  to  return,  and  the  saving  clause  I  had 
in  this  was,  that  if  I  did  return  it  could  not  be  said  I  broke  my 
word. 

Mr.  Downing  said  I  might  make  up  my  mind  that  whoever 
would  be  released  unconditionally,  I  would  not.  He  put  the  writing 
in  his  pocket-book,  promising  he  would  make  no  dishonorable  use 
of  it,  and  I  believe  he  never  did ;  but  when  I  learned,  a  year  after- 
ward, that  he  showed  it  to  my  father-in-law,  I  was  afraid  it  would 
bear  such  a  construction   as  that  I  sent  for  Mr.  Downing  for  the 


322  0' Donovan  Rossa' ]s  Prison  Life. 

purpose  of  getting  him  to  intercede  for  my  release,  and  I  wrote  to 
him  to  return  me  the  paper.  He  did  so,  and  I  kept  it  in  my  cell. 
When  the  Government  officials  asked  me  if  I  would  leave  the  coun-, 
try  if  pardoned,  the  reply  I  gave  was  to  send  them  this  very  leaf  of 
paper. 

Mr.  Downing  paid  me  a  second  visit  a  few  months  alter  his  first, 
and  brought  with  him  another  member  of  Parliament,  Mr.  Blake,  of 
Waterford.  This  interview  was  solicited  on  their  part,  as  questions 
had  been  raised  in  the  House  of  Commons  about  my  hands  being 
tied  behind  my  back  for  thirty-five  days. 

Mr.  Downing  said  I  never  told  him  this,  which  was  true,  but 
it  was  not  to  tell  it  I  sent  for  him.  I  sent  for  him  that  he  might 
ask  for  my  suppressed  letters  in  Parliament,  which  would  tell  that 
story  and  other  stories  besides. 

The  question  again  came  up  of  my  leaving  the  country,  and  Mr. 
Blake  talked  of  my  going  to  Australia.  He  said  he  had  some  very 
influential  friends  there,  and  that  he  would  give  me  letters  of  intro- 
duction to  them.  I  thanked  him ;  but  I  was  so  suspicions  at  the 
time  as  to  think  he  was  speaking  with  a  knowledge  of  where  the 
Government  wished  me  to  go,  and  that  the  friends  to  whom  he 
would  give  letters  would  be  also  Government  friends.  But  when  a 
man  with  the  patriotic  Irish  name  of  Gavan  DutFy  is  dubbed  a  Sir 
Charles  by  Queen  Victoria,  and  held  by  patriotic  Irishmen  to  be  an 
Irish  patriot  still,  I  suppose  I  will  be  looked  upon  as  over  squeamish 
in  imagining  the  possibility  of  my  falling  into  any  hands  that  would 
mould  the  future  of  my  life  to  anything  different  or  antagonistic  to 
what  the  past  of  it  has  been.  I  did  not  say  I  would  go  to  Australia 
then.  I  said  my  wife  and  some  of  my  children  Avere  in  America, 
and  it  was  probable,  if  I  had  a  choice  of  going  anywhere,  I  would 
go  towards  them. 

Mr.  Blake  and  Mr.  Downing  questioned  me  on  the  subject  of  hav- 
ing my  hands  tied  for  thirty-five  days,  and  I  told  them  it  was  true. 

The  Deputy-Governor  was  present,  and  he  did  not  deny  it.  Mr. 
Bruce,  the  Secretary  of  State,  said  I  "  was  only  tied  for  a  part  of  a 
day." 

Mr.  Downing  asked  the  Deputy  if  he  cculd  see  the  record  books, 
and  the  Deputy  said  "Yes." 

But,  on  reflection,  he  considered  he  would  be  acting  improperly 
in  showing  them  in  the  absence  of  the  Governor,  and  begged  to  be 
excused. 

These  records  subsequently  showed  that  I  was  bound  day  after 
day_for  the  time  mentioned.  But  at  one  time  they  were  taken  out 
of  the  prison  and  kept  in  London  in  order  to  prevent  a  detection  of 
the  falsehoods  of  the  Secretary  of  State  and  his  agents.  When  I 
am  writing  on  the  Commission  of  Inquiry  I  will  go  fully  into  the 
matter. 

I  had  a  visit  from  Mr.  Richard  Pigott  and  Mr.  John  O'Donnell, 
and  it  was  that  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag.     Through  many  inter- 


0' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  323 

ruptions  of  the  Deputy-Governor  who  presided  at  our  interview,  I 
was  enabled  to  tell  them  as  much  as  would  enable  them  to  make  a 
noise  when  they  got  home.  Mr.  Pigott's  object  in  visiting  me  was 
to  ascertain  if  I  was  willing  to  give  evidence  in  a  case  of  libel  which 
was  brought  against  him  by  Mr.  A.  M.  Sullivan,  editor  of  the  Nation. 
This  was  the  second  time  the  Irishman  was  prosecuted  on  account 
of  the  publication  of  a  letter  of  mine  concerning  Mr.  Sullivan.  I 
consented  to  give  any  evidence  I  could  in  the  case,  and  in  a  few 
months  afterwards  a  commissioner,  accompanied  by  Mr.  A.  M.  Sul- 
livan, with  attorney  and  counsel  for  both  sides,  came  to  the  prison 
to  examine  and  cross-examine  me. 

Mr.  Luby  tells  me  Mr.  Pigott's  attorney,  Mr.  Lawless, 
thought  I  went  back  of  my  charges  on  this  occasion,  but  I  do  not 
know  how  that  could  be  thought.  I  think  I  was  pretty  positive  in 
adhering  to  them. 

I  was  asked  if  I  ever  had  any  personal  ill-will  against  Mr.  Sulli- 
van, and  I  should  conscientiously  say  I  never  had,  and  to  other 
questions  replied  that  I  knew  himself  and  his  family  ;  that  his  father 
was  a  respected  man,  and  it  was  with  pain  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  write 
harshly  of  his  son.  I  was  asked  if  I  considered  Mr.  Sullivan  to  be 
an  honest  man,  and  I  answered  that  I  believed  him  to  be  a  better 
man  in  his  heart  than  in  his  paper,  for  I  had  in  my  mind  the  necessi- 
ties that  make  a  newspaper  man  say  and  do  many  things  when  he  is 
iu  with  men  and  parties  that  are  in  with  the  English  government 
and  support  his  paper,  which  he  would  not  say  or  do  were  he  inde- 
pendent of  them  and  had  no  paper. 

I  knew  Mr.  Sullivan,  and  took  notice  of  him  when  he  was  a 
young  man  and  I  a  growing  boy.  He  had  a  good  reputation  in  his 
native  town,  Bantry,  and  I  heard  him  talk  one  day  in  a  manner  that 
made  me  like  him.  But  when  he  became  a  newspaper  man,  he 
talked  quite  the  opposite  way  on  the  same  subject.  I  don't  believe 
his  mind  changed  a  bit,  but  his  necessities  did. 

It  was  just  after  the  coup  cPetat  in  Paris  when  that  tyrant  liber- 
ticide,  the  late  Napoleon,  perjured  himself,  shot  the  people  down, 
and  killed  the  Republic  he  was  sworn  to  uphold.  I  was  a  clerk  in 
the  hardware  store  of  William  Clarke,  of  Bantry,  he  sent  me  up 
to  the  Poor  Law  Union  to  look  after  some  contracts,  and  I  stood 
in  the  waiting-room  awaiting  orders.  Five  or  six  men  were  talking 
of  Napoleon,  and  one  of  them  denounced  the  scoundrel  in  the  most 
scathing  language,  asserting  that  he  himself  would  not  have  the 
least  scruple  in  blowing  out  his  brains,  and  would  do  it  at  the  mo- 
ment if  he  had  the  chance.  I  was  too  young  at  the  time  to  say 
anything,  but  I  tell  you  it  added  a  little  to  my  pride  to  find  Sandy 
Sullivau  holding  the  same  opinion  as  myself.  I  never  could  read 
his  articles  in  the  Nation  in  praise  of  this  same  Napoleon,  without 
thinking  of  that  Bantry  Boardroom,  and  without  having  a  holy 
horror  of  becoming  a  newpaper  man.  I  had  a  presentiment  some 
way  that  my  becoming  so  would  be  my  ruin,  and  sure  enough  it  was. 


324  C  Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life. 

But  withal  it  did  not  change  one  opinion  of  mine.  I  hold  them 
now  the  same  as  I  did  those  "  twenty  golden  years  ago,"  and  if  \ 
live  those  twenty  more  that  I  am  banished  from  the  old  land,  may 
God  grant  that  the  old  spirit  will  live  too. 

Another  word  about  the  editor  of  the  Nation.  It  is  surprising 
to  see  with  what  persistency  he  has  stuck  to  maligning  "Fenian- 
ism"  and  those  connected  with  it,  except  a  few  friends  of  his,  such 
as  P.  J.  Meehan  and  Colonel  Roberts,  who  would  begin  the  fight  in 
Canada  instead  of  Ireland.  He  has  written  a  story  of  Ireland  for 
school-boys,  but  I  trust  few  of  the  rising  generation  will  pay 
much  attention  to  the  two  last  chapters  of  it.  "  The  politics  oi 
despair  "  is  what  he  calls  fighting  for  Irish  independence,  and  he 
says  "it  may  be  deplored  that  a  considerable  portion  of  the  Irisq 
people  have  lent  a  ready  ear  to  them." 

"  We  were  in  a  mood  to  hearken  to  any  proposal,  no  matter 
how  wild,  and  to  follow  any  man,  no  matter  who  he  might  be,  prom^ 
isi.ig  to  lead  us  to  vengeance." 

"  Our  policy  was  strenuously  reprehended  by  every  one  of  the 
'48  leaders" — which  is  scarcely  true,  for  Michael  Doheny,  and 
Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  and  John  Mitchel  gave  some  counte- 
nance to  it — "and  reprehended  by  the  Catholic  clergy  universally." 

This  is  somewhat  false.  I  know  Catholic  clergymen  who  did 
not  reprehend  it,  and  Mr.  Sullivan  knows  them  too.  One  of  those, 
known  to  both  of  us,  wrote  to  me  when  I  was  elected  for  Tipperary, 
but  I  was  never  told  of  the  arrival  of  his  letter  till  I  was  leaving 
prison ;  it  was  handed  to  me  then,  and  as  the  following  passage  is 
underscored  by  the  authorities  to  show  it  was  under  their  consider- 
ation, I  give  it  in  full : 

"December  21,  '69. 

"  You  remember  Father  Leader,  how  he  read  from  the  altar,  in 
1850,  a  long  list  of  the  evictions  perpetrated  by  Tom  Marmion.  A 
history  of  these  evictions  appears  on  the  papers  of  to-day  in  the 
form  of  letters  from  Father  Davis  and  Father  Troy.  We  are  mak- 
ing great  strides  towards  tenant  right.  Farmers  will  not  be  con- 
tented now  with  anything  short  of  fixity  of  tenure  at  fair  rents,  but 
this  is  more  than  they  will  get  until  our  rulers  are  better  educated. 
Dr.  O'Hea  is  in  Rome  attending  the  E.  Council.  The  opening  scene 
in  St.  Peter's,  the  splendor  of  the  ceremonies,  was  magnificent  be- 
yond description.  There  are  800  bishops  and  mitred  abbots.  Put 
out  of  your  mind  the  idea  that  they  are  to  deliberate  on  the  con- 
demnation of  Fenianism.  You  oight  to  know  that  the  opinions  of 
Dr.  Moriarty  are  neither  general  nor  well  received  among  the  Irish 
clergy.  Every  day  renders  it  less  likely  that  they  ever  will  be.  The 
current  seems  drifting  rather  in  a  direction  quite  the  reverse  !  /  " 

Every  one  knows  the  priests  who  denounced  the  movement,  but 
Mr.  Sullivan  had  no  necessity  to  know  the  good  priests,  nor  am  I 
going  to  "  inform"  on  them,  nor  even  tell  him  the  writer  of  the  let- 
ter I  have  quoted  from. 


G*  Donovan  Basso's  Prison  Life.  325 

This  anti-revolution  historian  further  says — "The  first  leaders 
of  the  conspiracy  were  not  men  well  recommended  to  Irish  confid- 
ence." 

I  hope  the  schoolboys  who  read  this  will  not  believe  a  word  of 
it.     To  my  mind  it  is  false  history.    They  were  as  well  known  and 
as  well  trusted  in  their  several  localities  as  ever  the  historian   was 
before  he  was  an  anti-revolutionist,  and  he  was  known  and  trusted 
then. 

"And  in  the  venemous  manner  in  which  they  assailed  all  who 
endeavored  to  dissuade  the  people  from  their  plot,  they  showed  they 
had  not  alone  copied  the  forms,  but  imbibed  the  spirit  of  the  conti- 
nental secret  societies." 

This  should  read — "And  in  the  venomous  manner  in  which  they 
assailed  me — A.  M.  Sullivan — because  /exposed  their  'plot,'  &c." 

The  use  of  the  words  "plot"  and  "continental  secret  societies" 
show  he  is  familiar  with  the  phraseology  of  our  prosecutors. 

"  Up  to  1864  the  Fenian  enterprise  made  comparatively  little  head- 
way in  Ireland.  In  America,  almost  from  the  outset,  it  secured  large 
support." 

This  is  entirely  false.  It  was  quite  the  other  way,  and  if  the 
men  in  Ireland  had  trusted  to  themselves  instead  of  relying  on 
the  "  large  American  support,"  things  might  also  be  another  way 
to-day. 

"  There  was  up  to  the  last  a  fatuous  amount  of  delusion  maintain- 
ed by  the '  Head  Centre'  at  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  James  Stephens, 
a  man  of  marvellous  subtlety  and  wonderful  powers  of  plausible  im- 
position; crafty,  cunning,  and  quite  unscrupulous  as  to  the  employ- 
ment of  means  to  an  end." 

This  is  a  splendid  fling  at  a  fallen  enemy  of  his,  whom  the  enemy 
of  Ireland  has  banished  beyond  reaching  him.  To  be  "  quite  un- 
scrupulous as  to  the  employment  of  means  to  an  end,"  is  what  any 
man  must  be  who  expects  to  fight  England  successfully.  That  will 
be  no  more  than  fighting  her  with  her  own  weapons,  and  those  who 
learn  a  true  story  of  Ireland  must  learn  this.  Saying  wrhich,  I  take 
my  leave  of  Mr.  Sullivan  and  Ids  petty,  spiteful  story. 

Looking  back  at  my  prison  life,  and  reading  over  some  verses  I 
made  while  we  were  mending  stockings,  I  am  struck  with  the  freedom 
of  thought  we  managed  to  indulge  in  while  the  body  was  closely 
confined. 

I  would  be  afraid  here  now  to  speak  the  opinions  that  are  found 
in  the  following  lines.  I  entertained  them  when  1  was  in  prison, 
and  might  entertain  them  still  if  I  was  in  Ireland.  But  here  in 
America,  where  our  Irish  are  less  religious  than  at  home,  they  are, 
as  if  to  compensate  for  their  falling  oflf,  more  bigoted  ;  and  where  1 
am  less  known  than  in  the  old  land,  a  fanatic  paper  here  could  on  the 
strength  of  the  stray  words  in  these  rhymes  get  up  a  cry  of  "Com- 
munist" or  "Infidel"  against  me  that  would  get  holy  people  to  exe- 
crate me. 


326  C  Donovan  IZoxxaa  Prison     -L'fo. 

Nevertheless,  as  they  were  my  opinions  when  I  was  free  to  hold 
them,  at  a  time  that  I  had  no  fear  of  the  world's  prejudices  depriving 
me  of  my  daily  bread,  I  give  them  here  : 

Here's  a  health  to  the  victims  of  tyranny's  wrong, 
Here's  a  health  to  the  weak  who're  oppressed  by 'the  strong, 
Here's  a  health  to  the  men,  he  their  cieeri  what  it  may, 
Who  can  say  "  G-od  Save  Ireland"  wherever  they  pray. 

And  let  them  kneel  to  God  above, 

In  church  or  chapel,  kirk  or  grove, 

Here's  heart  and  hand,  and  hope  and  love, 
For  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

Our  long  suffering  mother  is  ravished  by  knaves, 
And,  dishonored,  bhe  weepingly  nurses  us  slaves, 
The  tyrants  have  made  us  a  hell  upon  earth, 
And  we  labor  in  chains,  while  they  revel  in  mirth. 

We'd  hardly  be  more  sorely  tried, 

More  scattered  through  the  world  wide, 

Had  Christ  by  us  been  crucified 
In  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

But  we're  told  our  misfortunes  are  owing  to  our  guilt, 
That  we're  paying  for  the  blood  which  our  forefather's  spilt, 
That  England  to  us  is  t  ie  heaven-sent  stroke, 
And  we  strike  against  God  when  we  strike  at  her  yoke. 
v  This  teaching  finds  us  blood-red  graves, 
In  lands  beyond  the  salt  sea  waves, 
And  leaves  us  crouching,  cringing  slaves- 
In  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

It  is  said,  and  I  think  'tis  byMachiavel, 

That  tyrants  in  teaching  the  Bible  excel, 

In  order  the  better  to  plunder  the  poor, 

And  make  them  submit  to  the  wrongs  they  endure. 

And  thus  they  offer  us  the  Word, 

They  tell  us  pray  and  trust  the  Lord, 

And  then  the}^  rob  with  tire  and  sword 
In  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

To  our  ruthless  invaders  the  creed  mattered  nought, 
They  made  heaven  subserve  every  conquest  they  sought, 
And  the  Catholics  sent  by  the  Popes  for  our  pence, 
Just  hit  us  as  hard  as  the  Puritan  saints. 

Since  Adrian's  grant,  'tis  fraud,  'tis  force, 

'Tis  Bulls,  'tis  bayonets,  footaud  horse, 

'Tis  Cullen's  or  'tis  Cromwell's  curse 
In  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

Can  the  creeds  that  love  freedom  and  manhood  elsewhere, 

Be  fruitful  of  nothing  but  slavery  there  ? 

Will  the  ''Protestant  Boys"  never  give  us  a  hope, 

But  hugging  their  fetters,  afraid  of  a  Pope  ? 

Our  Pagan  sires  our  strifes  would  shun, 

Thev  saw  their  heaven  through  the  sun, 

Their  God  smiled  down  on  every  one 
In  Ireland,  over  the  water. 


C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  397 

Our  children  of  Roman  and  Protestant  birth 
Proclaim  our  disgrace  through  the  brothels  of  earth, 
Yet  the  preachers  preach  on,  we  have  nothing  to  do 
But  to ' '  carry  the  Cross  "  and  ' '  give  Csesar  his  due." 

Christ  never  said  'twas  Caesar's  coin, 

The  land  is  ours,  then  let  us  join 

Our  hearts  and  hands  across  the  Boyne, 
For  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

But  the  bigots  start  up  to  prevent  the  embrace, 

And  the  phantoms  of  faction  are  flung  in  our  face, 

"  To  hell  with  the  Pope"—"  Hell  with  William  the  Third," 

Then  like  devils  we  fight  "  for  the  love  of  the  Lord." 

The  world's  contempt  rewards  our  pains, 

We're  slaves,  and  with  our  very  chains 

We  batter  out  each  other's  brains 
In  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

This  creed  of  dissension  is  nursed  in  the  land, 
While  the  creed  of  our  martyrs  is  prisoned  and  banned — 
Sheares,  Crowley,  Fitzgerald,  Lynch,  Duffy,  and  Tone, 
Emmett,  Larkin,  and  Orr  died  for  Ireland  alone. 

For  Freedom's  cause  at  Freedom's  shrine. 

This  was  the  creed  of  Mike  O'Brien, 

Let  it  be  yours  as  well  as  mine, 
For  Ireland,  over  the  water. 

And  then  for  a  struggle  to  end  in  success — 
When  the  Keoghs  will  protect  us  and  Cullens  will  bless, 
For  'tis  but  for  failure  that  "rebels  "  are  damned, 
That  scaffolds  are  mounted  and  prisons  are  crammed. 

Come  North  and  South  our  land  to  save, 

Can't  we  be  Irish,  true  and  brave, 

And  neither  Rome's  nor  Englands's  slave 
In  Ireland,  over  the  water. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


A.  CHAPTER  OP  LETTERS THE  BELMONT  FUND T.  F.  DONOVAN,  WM.  R„ 

ROBERTS MAURICE      AND      KATE      SPILLANE COURTSHIP      AFTER 

MARRIAGE LOVE    AND    WAR MY    WIFE'S  LETTER    TO    MR.    GLAD- 
STONE   AND    HIS  REPLY HER  LETTERS  TO  ME  AND  MY  REPLIES 

APPREHENSIONS    OF   BOTH     OF     US     COMMITTING     SUICIDE A     RO- 
MANCE   OF    REAL    LIFE. 

If  a  prisoner  is  interestingly  married,  the  outside  world  knows 
very  little  how  much  the  thoughts  of  his  prison  life  are  occupied  by 
his  wife.  The  chapter  of  letters  before  me  now  reveals  a  troubled 
existence  in  all  the  moods  and  tenses  of  intense  suffering.  It  was 
a  question  with  us  in  Ireland  whether  men  who  had  committed 
themselves  to  the  cause  of  revolution  should  marry  at  all.  I  know 
many  who  had  put  off  "the  happy  day"  until  the  war  would  be  over, 
but  I  was  not  one  of  them.  I  married  when  the  work  was  hottest, 
and  the  day  after  I  married  I  started  for  England  and  Scotland  to 
meet  the  men  in  several  towns  who  were  calling  for  some  one 
from  headquarters  to  visit  them.  A  few  months  after  returning  I 
was  sent  to  Connaught  with  Edward  Duffy,  and  spent  a  month  there. 
After  returning  from  Connaught  I  was  sent  to  America,  and  when  I 
came  back,  my  wife,  who  left  her  father's  house  again  and  came  to 
Dublin,  must  have  had  very  serious  doubts  as  to  whether  I  intend- 
ed spending  a  "  honeymoon"  at  all  or  not.  She  had  very  little  of 
my  company  during  the  few  months  preceding  my  arrest.  I  was 
out  of  house  all  day,  and,  in  the  excitement  of  the  times,  let  me  con- 
fess that  I  was  oftener  out  at  night  than  I  need  be,  so  that,  looking 
at  my  married  life,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  memories  of 
a  wife,  now  widowed,  troubled  and  friendless,  should  speak  bitterly 
to  me  of  her  condition. 

The  letters  I  will  give  in  this  chapter  were  never  written  for 
publication,  and,  perhaps,  never  ought  to  be  published.  They  are 
essentially  private  letters,  but  as  some  things  in  them  are  calculated 
to  give  a  lesson  to  "  patriots,"  I  don't  mind  letting  the  "  patriots" 
see  them. 

There  are  a  number  of  Irishmen  in  America  who  parade  and 
pic-nic,  and  pipe  and  play  in  honor,  or  in  the  name  of  the  Irish  cause, 
and  the  men  who  suffer  death  and  imprisonment  for  it  are  immor- 
talized in  song  and  speech  in  every  one  of  their  festive  gatherings. 


(J  Donovan  Hossds  Prison  Life.  329 

Yet  the  wives  and  the  children  of  those  martyred  or  suffering  men 
may  be  starving  for  bare  want  of  the  common  necessaries  of  life  for 
all  the  paraders  or  the  pic-nickers  may  care. 

I,  in  prison,  should  have  been  spared  the  pain  of  thinking 
my  wife  or  children  were  neglected,  and  so  should  the  men  in  prison 
still,  be  spared  that  pain,  and  if  Irishmen  here  were  what  they  ought 
to  be — if  their  professions  of  love  for  the  cause  of  the  old  land  were 
to  have  corresponding  action — they  would  have  some  society  to 
provide  for  the  widows  and  orphans  of  those  who  fall  fighting  for  it. 
Irish-American  patriots  cannot  fight  for  Irish  independence  in  Amer- 
ica, and  if  they  don't  assist  and  encourage  those  who  mean  to  fight 
for  it  in  Ireland  and  England,  they  do  nothing. 

Here  is  my  wife's  first  letter  from  America.  Let  the  men  of 
the  Irish  societies  read  it — the  Fenians  and  the  Clan-na-gael  included 
— and  ask  themselves  are  they  doing  anything  even  yet,  only  "en- 
acting  the  Lhuge  humbugs'  that  have  been  in  course  of  enaction  from 
time  to  time  ?" 


6  Dominick  Street,  New  York  City,  U.  S.  A.,  July  19,  '67. 
To  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  from  his  wife,  M.  J.  O'D.  Rossa  : 

My  Dear  Husband  :  I  sit  down  to  write  to  you  in  a  graver  mood  than  usual. 
'Twas  only  to-day  I  read  the  full  report  of  the  Commissioners  who  investigated  the 
prisoners'  treatment,  and  I  must  confess  to  a  feeling  of  vexation  and  annoyance  that 
you  should  make  yourself  so  conspicuous  amongst  men  who  are  supposed  to  be  as 
sensitive  of  their  condition  as  you,  by  the  number  of  complaints  you  make  and  by 
the  number  made  against  you.  What  is  the  use  of  bringing  so  many  successive  pun- 
ishments on  yourself  by  impotent  defiance  of  a  rule  that  holds  you  in  its  grasp  ?  Who 
can  assist  you  ?  or  what  end  is  to  be  gained  ?  It  seems  so  boyish  a  temper  you  have 
become  possessed  of  that  I  should  fail  to  recognize  it  in  the  report,  if  I  did  not  mark 
the  irritation  of  your  feelings  in  our  interview  at  Millbank,  and  the  manner  in  which 
you  "  took  up  "  every  word  uttered  by  the  warders. 

Before  you  come  to  the  end  of  this  letter  you  will  come  to  conclusions  regarding 
the  advisability  of  submitting  to  any  and  every  discipline  of  your  prison,  and  of  pass- 
ing in  silence  the  wrongs  you  or  your  friends  are  powerless  to  avenge.  I  believe  the 
Government  is  using  a  short-sighted  policy  in  preventing  State  prisoners  from  hearing 
how  affairs  go  on  in  the  world  outside.  I  am  sick  in  my  soul  of  the  "  huge  humbugs" 
that  have  been  in  course  of  enaction  from  time  to  time ;  of  the  duplicity,  the 
treachery,  the  heartlessness,  the  folly  that  have  characterized  the  past  two  years  in 
the  history  of  Ireland ;  the  only  redeeming  feature  being  the  self-sacrifice  of  a  num- 
ber of  honest  men  who  are  called  zealots  and  enthusiasts,  and  well-intentioned  fools, 
for  their  pains,  by  half  the  world. 

I  speak  and  will  speak  as  I  have  never  spoken  before  to  you.  It  is  necessary  per- 
haps that  you  should  have  some  incentive  to  act  in  a  more  rational  manner.  O'Leary 
is  aproud,  sensitive,  high-spirited  man  ;  so  also  is  Luby.  Yet,  with  admirable  dignity, 
they  hold  up  their  heads  and  take  no  insult  from  creatures  who  are  beneath  ttieir 
contempt.  This  is  wise  in  every  sense.  They  have  less  reason  to  be  far-seeing  and 
politic  than  you,  for  think  what  reasons  have  you?  Need  I  set  before  you  the  fact 
that  you  have  six  sons — four  of  them  in  my  father's  house — and  likely  to  remain  there 
if  the  poor  man  can  keep  a  house  over  them,  for  I  have  failed  in  getting  any  pro- 
vision for  them  here.  Need  I  remind  you  that  you  have  a  wife — a  sorely  wronged  girl 
whom  you  took  in  her  inexperience  and  world-ignorance,  whom  you  afterwards  with 
open  eyes  left  unprovided  for,  and  who  is  at  present  drudging  away  her  life  at 
writing  for  a  pittance,  and  wearing  away  her  heart  at  yearning  for  the  infant  who 
finds  a  mother  at  the  other  side  of  the  great  ocean  ?  Ah,  Rossa,  Rossa,  look  out  and 
think  of  these  things — think  which  has  most  trouble,  you  who  took  it  on  yourself 
and  drew  it  on  me,  or  I,  who,  depending  on  your  love  to  do  ail  that  was  just  to  me, 
find  myself  a  married  woman  without  a  husband,  a  child  without  a  parent,  and  a 
mother  without  a  child.  Steeped  to  the  lips  in  poverty  and  misery  and  labor  of 
heart  and  head ;  far  from  home  and  in  the  midst  of  friends  who  are  hollow,  and 


330  0** Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life. 

strangers  who  are  suspicious  and  critical  of  my  youth — who  suffers  most?  who  has 
most  reason  of  complaint  ?    I  against  you,  or  you  against  the  authorities  ? 

Is  there  any  hope  before  me?  I  see  none  except  whatever  arises  from  the  writ 
of  error  or  the  politic  clemency  of  the  Crown.  Towards  the  expenses  of  that  writ 
of  error,  let  me  tell  you,  the  American  people,  after  four  weeks  of  the  publishing  of 
Miss  Mulcahy's  petition,  have  given  not  a  single  cent.  That  speaks  volumes.  The  fam- 
ilies have  joined  in  an  appeal  and  noihing  goes  home  in  answer  to  it,  and  the  West  of 
Ireland  is  famine-stricken  again  and  America  sends  no  relief  there. 

The  policy  of  the  Government  will,  I  have  no  doubt,  even  if  the  writ  of  error  fail, 
order  your  release  on  conditions  after  a  little  time— always  considering  you  have  set 
up  no  obstacle  to  its  mercy  in  your  own  bearing  and  deportment.  Your  whole  con- 
duct is  defiantly  in  opposition  to  your  captors,  it  is  said.  I  ask  you  again,  what  is  the 
use?  You  are  the  conquered,  not  the  conqueror,  and  true  valor  is  best  displayed  in 
gracefully  accepting  your  defeat.  If  you  escaped  to-morrow  I  solemnly  tell  you  1 
would  not  live  with  you  unless  you  atoned  to  me  for  the  past  by  minding  your  own 
family  and  your  own  affairs  for  the  future.  You  told  me  before  our  marriage  that  I 
could  "simulate  and  dissimulate."  Well,  you  were  right.  Every  day  after  that  25th 
of  October  opened  my  eyes  wider  to  the  madness  of  our  union,  but  I  loved  you  and 
I  would  not  pain  you  by  showing  my  unhappiness.  I  looked  to  the  future,  disbeliev- 
ing all  your  talk  of  prisons  and  battle-fields,  and  I  hoped  for  the  life  I  had  coveted 
after  your  Fenian  business  was  past  and  gone.  Philosophy  came  to  my  aid,  and  I 
patiently  bore  what  few  wives  would  bear  unreproachfully,  and  I  simulated  happi- 
ness while  my  heart  was  sore,-  to  make  you  happy.  After  this  continue  to  act  against 
your  own  interest,  if  you  love  it  and  me  so  little  as  to  feel  inclined  to  act  so.  You 
would  never  know  this  much  I  have  written  if  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  tell  you, 
lest,  mistaking  my  mind  still,  you  plunge  yourself  and  me  into  more  misery  yet. 
What  is  the  use  of  my  life  if  it  is  to  be  no  more  than  a  distant  accompaniment  to  your 
protracted  sufferings,  and  where  do  you  think  will  the  strength  come  from  that  is  to 
help  me  to  bear  it?    Strength  comes  of  suffering,  men  say,  but  times 

"  My  spirit  swoons  away  in  hopeless  gloom  !" 

Up  to  this  time  I  have  in  public  taken  firm  hold  of  the  chalice  of  bitterness  you 
filled  for  me,  and  I  have  drank  it  down  with  brave  eyes  and  unflinching  breath  ;  but 
if  the  draught  be  deeper  and  deeper  still,  my  breath  may  fail,  my  courage  strangle 
me,  or  my  strength  desert  me.  Save  me  if  you  can.  I  have  one  good  angel  far  across 
the  water  that  looks  through  the  eyes  of  my  child,  my  bright  little  boy.  This  angel 
smiles  on  me  through  my  sleep,  and  stretches  two  tiny  hands  across  the  sea,  lisping 
my  name,  and  with  tiny  feet  tries  to  tread  the  waves  that  divide  me  from  him  and  the 
sunlight,  and  the  fresh  spray  gleams  on  his  shining  child-hair  and  over  the  little 
ruddy  face.  While  this  angel  lives  on  earth  a  firm  anchor  holds  me  to  life,  but  if  he 
goes — my  heart  sickens,  and  I  pray  God  spare  me  so  deep  a  grief  and  leave  me  my  one 
object  to  live  for.  So  far  my  letter  can  be  of  little  comfort  to  you,  but  I  cannot  in 
honesty  make  it  pleasanter.  You  will  be  angry,  I  daresay  wounded,  but  I  must  be 
satisfied  with  that  too.  If  you  understand  me  you  will  believe  me  that  one  pain  I 
give  is  at  the  cost  of  ten,  twenty,  to  myself,  for  I  find  it  easier  to  take  than  to  give  pain 
or  trouble. 

Here  I  must  break  off,  but — by-and-by  I  shall  recommence  and  tell  you  of  my  voy- 
age out,  my  reception  here,  and  what  I  do  since. 

Ever  affectionately,  your  wife,  M.  J. 

Friday  Evening. 

Some  day  I  may  be  sorry  for  having  written  this  letter.  I  am  sorry  for  writing 
it  now,  but  I  don't  see  how  it  could  be  avoided.  When  you  write  do  not  reproach  me 
for  the  words  I  have  said.  I  do  not  deserve  reproach,  and  I  feel  so  wronged  that  any- 
thing harsh  you  would  say  to  me  would  have  a  contrary  effect  to  what  you  would  in- 
tend. A  constant  falling  drop  will  wear  away  a  stone,  and  such  a  drop  has  been 
secretly  falling  on  my  heart — which  is  not  stone — for  the  last  few  years.  It  is  worn 
very  thin,  so  thin  that  another  hard  stroke  would  break  it. 

It  would  be  as  well  it  did  break  at  once  and  end  the  struggle  ;  but  3*et  a  spirit 
of  wild  defiance  sustains  it  in  its  despair — a  violent  outcry  against  the  injustice 
that  would  make  you,  who  have  enjoyed  everything  enjoyable  in  the  world,  be  the 
means  of  sending  me,  to  w.iom  the  earth's  greenness  bas  borne  no  fruit  of  pleasure  yet, 
heartbroken  to  the  grave.     I  won't  and  I  can't  die  while  I  can  live  for  choosing  life. 

What  a  strange  perversity  of  fancy  keeps  ringing  in  my  head  your  lines  in 
answer  to  my  "  Forget  me,  Rossa."  Can  you  remember  them?  Can  you  remember 
t^at  poem  they  were  an  answer  to,  or  a  sequel  to?  When  I  left  you,  after  that  inter- 
view at  Millbahk,  I  went  t<>  Dublin  and  straight  from  there  to  Clonakilty.  I  told  you 
Mr.  Pigott  offered  me  money  for  my  passage  to  America,  and  I  took  it,  trusting  to  be 


O' 'Donovan  fossa's  Prison  Life.  331 

able  to  pay  it  back  as  soon  as  I  should  arrive  here.  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  so ; 
but  as  that  incapacity  and  its  reason  enter  in  the  details  of  my  business  here  I  will 
let  it  pass  till  you  know  of  the  journey  that  preceded  it. 

I  reached  Clonakilty  unexpectedly  to  Papa  ;  was  received  with  open  arms 
by  the  familj',  and  expected  to  remain  some  time.  I  had  my  passage  engaged,  and 
only  two  days  at  my  disposal.  That  dear  child  of  mine  clung  to  my  neck  the  whole 
time,  and  would  not  take  his  de  r  little  arms  away,  and  he  waked  me  in  the  mornings 
kissing  and  patting  my  cheeks  with  his  rosy  fists.  Oh,  the  pain  of  parting  with  him. 
I  had  been  away  a  month  from  him,  and  had  only  these  two  days  to  be  with  him  be- 
fore leaving  him — perhaps  for  years  or  forever.  Mamma  was  distracted  at  my  com- 
ing to  a  country  where  there  is  neither  kith  nor  kin  of  mine.  My  father  came  with 
me  to  Queenstown.  The  morning  I  left,  your  letter  to  my  father  came.  I  can't  say  that 
either  he  or  I  appreciated  the  arguments  you  drew  to  satisfy  his  mind  that  what  is  is 
best  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  know  of  no  qualities  my  misfortunes  have  developed 
except  my  strength  of  endurance,  and  every  woman  is  endowed  with  a  share  of  that. 
I  wrote  verses  before  I  married ;  it  would  have  been  better  for  me  had  I  never  written. 
Whatever  the  qualities  are  you  think  creditable  that  have  been  developed  in  suffer- 
ing, I  would,  with  all  my  heart,  have  preferred  they  should  forever  lie  dormant,  if 
so  I  could  lead  a  pleasant  and  happy  life,  and  escape  my  present  and  past  misery. 
On  the  30th  of  May  I  was  put  on  board  the  City  of  Paris,  and  the  last  sight  of  my 
father  is  stamped  as  with  mordaunt  on  my  memory,  with  a  grey,  careworn  look  over 
his  face,  a  wan  shadow  on  his  lips,  and  lights  of  suppressed  anguish  in  his  eyes.  I 
know  as  well  as  if  I  followed  him  that  he  went  back  to  the  boarding-house  on  the 
beach,  and  locked  the  sitting-room  door  I  had  left,  and  sat  down  to  the  table  with  his 
head  between  his  arms  to  cry  out  the  agony  of  his  fatherly  heart ! 

It  chokes  me,  this  memory.  My  poor,  poor  father  !  I  was  known  on  hoard,  and 
very  khdly  treated.  There  were  American  families,  returning  from  a  tour  on  the 
Continent,  and  the}"  made  the  voyage  pleasant  to  me.  A  Frenchman,  who  had  been  an 
artist,  was  my  good  angel.  The  first  day  of  the  voyage,  when  I  was  so  sea-sick  that 
after  crawling  on  deck  I  had  to  lay  down  beside  a  lady,  a  ward  of  his,  who  was  sick 
too,  and  covered  up  in  rugs  and  furs,  he  brought  me  lemons  and  ice-water,  and 
folded  all  the  spare  rugs  he  c  uld  find  round  me,  and  so  I  spent  the  first  day  after  the 
evening  we  started  from  Queenstown. 

The  following  day  I  was  able  to  sit  up,  and  the  next  I  was  looking  about  for  some- 
thing to  employ  my  hands  or  my  mind  on.  The  Frenchman  gave  me  pencil  and 
paper,  and  I  sketched  roughly  a  few  of  the  faces  on  board.  The  artist  was  much 
pleased,  and  every  other  day  I  sat  at  one  side  of  him,  his  ward  on  the  other,  and 
much  to  the  amusement  of  our  fellow-voyageurs  we  caricatured  all  who  staid  quiet 
anywhere  in  our  vicinity.  Then  chance  brought  out  my  fortune-telling  propensities. 
and  I  had  all  the  ladies  and  their  escorts  on  board,  including  three  Church  of  England 
clergymen,  come  begging  me  tell  their  fortune.  To  the  end  of  the  voyage  I  had  not  a 
moment  to  spare.  The  doctor  wanted  his  likeness  taken,  with  an  autograph,  and  T  gave 
him  both ;  and  the  artist  wanted  my  likeness,  and  I  sat  for  it ;  and  the  stewardess  even 
wanted  her  fortune  told.  There  was  a  good  library  on  the  ship — a  small  one — but  some 
good  books — and  I  read,  at  intervals,  "  Hard  Times,"  and  some  other  pleasant  stories. 
Other  times  the  Frenchman  translated  German  legends  from  a  beautiful  little  book  he 
had.  In  the  nights,  after  supper,  we  all  gathered  aft  the  vessel,  and  watched  the  balls 
of  phosphoric  fire  that  rolled  in  myriads  from  the  white  wake  of  foam.  Then,  nearing 
land,  there  were  pleasant  promenades,  in  the  starry  evenings,  up  and  down  the  deck. 
I  will  for  a  long  time  remember  the  kind  words,  the  gentle  advice,  a  fine  old  gentle- 
man from  Louisville  gave  me.  I  say  "  old,"  but  he  wasn't  old  ;  he  was  light-hearted 
as  a  boy,  generous  and  cheery  and  gentlemanly.  His  sister  and  his  niece  were  with 
him,  and  the  great  interest  they  all  took  in  me  arose  from  the  fact  of  my  being  at 
Roscrea  School  with  a  cousin  of  theirs,  Gertrude  Hackett.  They  were  extremely 
kind  to  me,  and  left  me  addresses  and  invitations  to  their  places,  whenever,  if  ever, 
I  should  be  in  their  vicinity.  I  could  have  gone  with  that  family  as  governess  to  Mr. 
C.'s  daughters,  but  that  is  something  I  have  many  chances  of  doing.  I  won't  go  into 
any  family  till  I  know  a  little  more  of  America.  The  last  day  of  our  voyage  was  a 
stormy  one  ;  we  were  in  sight  of  land,  and  had  to  put  to  sea  again  with  the  land 
swell.  Then,  in  the  evening,  we  got  into  Sandy  Hook.  'Twas  Sunday,  and  we  all  had  to 
stay  on  hoard  till  next  day.  I  felt  very  lonely  as  the  tender  reached'the  Custom-House. 
At  sea  I  had  been  free  from  trouble — I  had  breathed ;  but  with  the  first  step  on  dry  land 
my  cares  and  perplexities  returned.  I  had  been  said  many  affectionate  adieus  by  the 
new  friends  of  my  voyage.  They  seemed  to  be  all  friends,  and  I  looked  sadly  after 
them  as,  group  by  group,  they  passed  away,  and  I  was  left  alone.  The  Frenchman 
saw  my  luggage  safe  and  ordered  me  a  carriage,  then  said  good-by  and  took  off  his 
charge  in  another  direction.  I  was  just  seeing  my  things  safe  in  the  carriage  when 
Tim  Donovan  came  up,  and  asked  me  if  a  Mrs.  0 'Donovan  had  come  over  in  the  City 


332  (J Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life. 

of  Paris?  He  stepped  into  the  carriage  with  me,  and  we  drove  to  Mrs.  Healy's,  where 
I  remained  one  week,  and  was  very  kindly  treated.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  me  to  live 
in  any  house  on  sufferance,  not  even  in  my  father's  house  ;  and  finding  I  was  putting 
the  family  to  inconvenience,  I  left  Brooklyn  and  went  to  board  with  an  American  family 
in  Thirteenth  street  and  Second  avenue.  To  do  this  I  should,  of  course,  have  money, 
so  I  engaged  myself  to  the  Irish  People  newspaper,  to  supply  them  weekly  with 
poems  or  stories,  under  my  name  (yours),  at  a  salary  of  $10  a  week,  equal  to  £l  10s. 
of  our  money  at  present.  This  is  very  trifling  to  live  on  here,  and  as  for  sparing  any- 
thing out  of  it! !  Och,  hone  !  as  Joan  said. 

I  couldn't  get  the  money  even  to  pay  back  to  Mr.  Pigott,  and  that  frets  me.  My 
hopes  are  thrown  to  pieces  concerning  the  whiskey  money.  I  couldn't  get  a  cent  of  it. 
Denis  Donovan  says  the  duty,  and  leakage,  and  storage,  ate  it  up.  I  would  mention  to 
you  the  names  of  many  men  who  called  on  me  all  with  big  professions,  none  with 
material  aid,  but  'twould  make  a  big  list,  and  the  authorities  might  see  it  objec- 
tionable. Of  course  I  told  them  of  the  reason  of  n^  journey,  all  about  the  children, 
&c,  but  civility  and  a  welcome  to  the  hospitality  of  their  house  was  all  I  could  get 
from  the  warmest  of  your  friends  here. 

"  Twas  very  hard  the  children  should  be  in  such  a  bad  way."  "  'Twas  wonder- 
ful they  wern't  seen  to," — "  awful  charge  for  a  young  woman,"  &c,  &c,  without  end, 
but  everybody's  business  is  nobody's  business,  and  I  got  lots  of  advice  and  pity,  but  no 
assistance.  The  boarding-house  in  Thirteenth  street  I  found  too  expensive  for  my  light 
purse,  so  I  moved  over  here  to  Dominick  street,  an  humble  neighborhood,  and  a 
house  more  hoim-like  to  me,  as  they  are  Clonaklity  people  who  rent  it,  and  they 
knew  my  father  before  I  was  born.  James  is  here,  but  his  neck  troubles  him  very 
much.  Prison  food  brought  on  an  ulcer  in  it.  Poor  boy,  he,  too,  is  the  victim  of  "  hard 
times."  All  I  could  do  or  all  he  could  do,  couldn't  get  him  a  situation,  such  a  world 
of  hypocrisy  and  hollowness  is  it !  Just  as  to  me,  he  was  made  ever  so  many  prom- 
ises of  employment,  but  his  patrons  forgot  their  words.  I  met  a  brother  of  yours 
here.  He  said  your  mother  and  all  belonging  to  you  in  this  country  enjoyed  good 
health.  If  you  choose  to  write  to  your  family  next,  I  shall  be  satisfied  to  waive  my 
claim  to  a  letter. 

I  was  at  Patrick  Downing's  place  in  Newark,  and  if  his  circumstances  would  ad- 
mit I  believe  I  might  expect  he  would  help  your  children.  He  is  a  spirited,  generous 
fellow,  but  his  family  is  increasing  and  he  has  not  made  his  fortune  yet.  I  like  him 
well.  Denis  Sullivan  of  the  Irish  People  has  treated  me  kindly.  Him,  too,  I  believe  to 
be  sincere,  but  his  circumstances  are  not  too  flourishing. 

Col.  Denis  F.  Burke  and  his  family  have  shown  me  much  friendship,  but  they  are 
only  recovering  fr.>m  the  reverses  suffered  through  connection  with  Fenianism.  Their 
kindness  is  limited  to  hospitality  and  the  best  of  good  wishes. 

I  write  as  much  as  I  can,  and  presently  I  shall  see  if  I  can't  get  in  on  other  papers 
or  periodicals  besides  the  Irish  People. 

Mr.  Meehan  promised  to  get  me  into  a  fancy  store  as  saleswoman,  if  I  chose  to  go 
into  business.  I  will  write  and  look  round  me  awhile.  I  may  presently  be  able  to 
send  for  your  children,  and  they  will  be  taken  to  trades  or  business  here  without  fee. 

I  may  go  down  to  St.  Louis  to  be  near  these  cousins  of  mine.  All  the  places  in  the 
world  are  the  same  to  me.  I  have  no  tie  to  any  part,  but  I  think  it  would  be  pleasant 
to  live  near  relatives.  I  don't  think  I  have  any  more  to  say,  only  I  got  a  letter  from 
my  father  and  one  from  Tim  since  I  came  here,  and  I  wrote  home  once.  You 
will  wonder  why  I  did  not  write  long  before  this.  I  just  wished  to  know  what  I'd  have 
to  say  to  you  from  here.  I'm  six  weeks  in  the  country  now.  The  first  week  I  thought 
'twas  a  splendid  place,  and  the  second  I  grew  suspicious  <>f  big  promises;  the  third  I 
felt  cynical  and  bitter,  and  so  on  every  day  adding  to  m3r  heart-sickness,  and  winding 
in  <>n  myself  as  if  I  were  a  spool  of  silk  that  had  witlessly  unrolled  and  was  being 
shrunk  up  again  by  the  motion  of  the  world  and  its  frost.  I  expect  you'll  write 
me,  when  you  do  write,  in  a  cold  strain,  to  punish  me  for  having  different  opinions 
from  yours  on  several  points  in  this  letter.  I'd  say  "  forgive,"  but  I  don't  feel  I  have 
done  anything  to  be  forgiven.  I  have  not  room  to  argue,  you  see,  and  must  only  sign 
myself  fondly  and  truly 

Your  wife,  M.  J. 

One  passage  of  this  letter  vexed  me  somewhat.  I  did  not  like 
that  my  wife  should  think  of  me  in  such  a  manner  as  it  suited  the 
English  Government  to  represent  me  to  the  world.  Knox  and  Pol- 
lock would  not  bring  me  face  to  face  with  my  accusers  ;  they  would 
do  nothing  to  do  me  justice  j  their  duty  was  to  whitewash  the  Gov- 


0** Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life.  333 

eminent  and  blackwash  me  ;  and  to  be  asked  "if  I  could  not  act  in 
a  rational  manner,"  or  "  act  like  Mr.  Luby,  or  Mr.  O'Leary,"  was 
something  that  annoyed  me,  when  I  had  no  chance  of  explaining  or 
replying. 

1  was  allowed  pen  and  paper  to  write  to  my  wife,  and  when  I 
had  written  the  letter  it  would  not  be  let  out,  because  it  contained 
the  explanation  1  thought  proper  to  give.  To  nurse  my  wrath 
would  be  only  to  burn  myself  up,  and  as  there  was  no  use  at  all 
in  my  committing  such  a  suicide,  I  began  to  grow  callous  regarding 
what  the  world,  or  the  wife,  or  the  warders  should  think  of  me. 
Some  one  tells  us,  when  misfortune  hits  us  hard,  the  best  way  to 
bear  it  is  to  hit  hard  at  something  else  in  return,  and  I  will  allow 
my  experience  to  indorse  the  wisdom  of  the  counsel. 

A  year  and  a  half  elapsed  before  I  heard  from  my  wife  again. 
During  this  time  I  wrote  two  or  three  letters  to  her;  but,  as  I 
harped  on  the  same  strings,  they  were  again  suppressed.  Her 
prospects,  during  this  time,  were  growing  brighter,  and  her  letter 
is  not  so  gloomy  as  the  last.  She  had  been  turning  her  talents  to 
some  account  in  earning  an  independent  livelihood,  and  was  begin- 
ning to  entertain  the  foolish  notion  of  getting  me  out  of  prison  by 
going  to  law  with  the  devil,  when  she  would  have  earned  a  sufficient 
amount  of  money  to  employ  counsel. 

She  puts  me  into  a  corner  when  she  says,  "  Tell  me  have  you  really 
grown  so  indifferent  regarding  what  I  may  think  or  feel  at  your 
silence,  that  you  make  no  effort  to  win  the  good-will  of  your  jailers, 
or  the  favors  extended  to  your  companions  in  misery  ?" 

At  the  time  I  received  this  letter  my  jailers  were  hitting  me 
pretty  hard.  It  was  just  after  they  had  been  chaining  and  tramp- 
ling me  under  foot,  and  I  was  not  in  the  humor  to  write  very 
kindly  of  them,  or  very  forgetfully  of  their  treatment.  I  wrote, 
but  this  letter  shared  the  fate  of  the  others.  Another  was  sup- 
pressed when  I  tried,  six  months  after ;  but  the  next  half-yearly  let- 
ter was  allowed  to  pass. 

Utica,  N.  Y.,  December  13, 1868. 
My  Dear  Love  :  I  do  not  know  why  I  write  to  you  to-night  unless  it  is  that  I  feel 
more  than  unusually  "  lonely  and  alone,"  and  memory  has  been  preaching  to  me  little 
serm:  >ns  fr<  m  your  life  and  mine.  I  have  not  been  fit  to  write  to  you  for  a  long,  long  time. 
My  heart  is  in  the  state  of  a  dormant  volcano — by  avoiding  thoughts  of  you  or  my 
child  I  avoid  an  eruption ;  by  reflecting  a  moment  on  my  more  than  three  years' 
widowhood  and  my  far-away  baby,  my  soul  is  shaken  to  its  deepest  depths — my  heart 
convulsed  to  the  core  with  discontent.  Well,  I  will  not  talk  of  that  now.  I  am  taking 
the  only  measures  my  judgment  can  approve  to  mend  the  faults  of  fortune,  and  have 
now  at  least  a  partial  certainty  of  success.  It  would  be  a  l<>ng  story  to  tell  you, 
how  I  came  to  adopt  the  profession  of  elocution.  If  you  ever  get  free,  or  if  I  ever 
again  unrestrainedly  meet  you  without  warders  by  to  listen  to  and  comment  on  my 
confessions,  I'll  give  you  the  history  of  these  three  long  jrears,  years  as  long  as  ordi- 
nary lifetimes,  years  that  I  never  ex.ected  human  endurance  could  outlive.  The 
little  raft  of  resolution  that  floated  in  from  the  wreck  of  my  fortune  three  or  four 
years  ago,  has  run  steadily  on  the  waves  of  life.  It  will  soon,  I  hope,  be  strong  enough 
to  bear  you  up  too.  To  depart  from  i  arallels,  I  have  been  giving  public  readings  for 
gome  months,  and  intend  continuing  to  do  so  till  I  have  acquired  a  sufficient  sum  of 
money  to  justify  me  in  engaging  counsel  to  re-oi  >en  your  case  and  appeal  it  to  the  House 
of  Lords    You  need  not  think  I  am  "  begging  "  in  your  name ;  even  if  I  could  descend 


334  <y Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Life. 

to  that,  people's  hearts  are  closed,  and  I'd  be  losing  time  in  trying  to  open  them.  1 
am  earning  honestly  my  income  and  have  gone  through  a  careful  training,  have 
studied  my  role  scrupulously,  so  that  at  least  no  one  could  call  me  an  amateur  reader 
or  a  very  inferior  one. 

I  am  excessively  impatient  to  have  a  line  from  you.  How  do  I  know  but  you 
have  mentally  buried  me  and  caused  a  resurrection  of  your  dead  loves?  If  what  the 
Governor  said  was  true  about  your  breaking  the  rules  so  often,  you  certainly  did  not, 
or  do  not,  care  to  write  to  me.  I  don't  mean  to  write  a  long  letter  until  I  know.  Tell 
me  any  ideas  you  may  have  yourself  as  to  how  I  could  serve  you,  and  tell  me  have  you 
really  grown  so  indifferent  regarding  what  I  may  think  or  feel  at  your  silence  that  you 
make  no  effort  to  win  the  good  will  of  your  jailers,  or  the  favors  extended  to  your  com- 
panions in  misery  ? 

I  cannot  tell  you  any  home  news,  as  I  had  not  a  letter  for  some  time,  nor  any 
answer  to  my  two  last,  and  they  told  me  in  their  last  that  baby  had  the  whooping 
cough.  Denny  wants  me  to  bring  him  out  here.  I  am  writing  to  him  by  this  mail  to 
get  ready  for  the  journey.  John  is  bound  to  Mr.  Lawless,  and  the  two  next  are  at 
school,  I  believe,  and  boarding  with  Mrs.  Duff;  I'm  not  sure.  I  have  no  direct  way  of 
knowing,  as  my  success  in  the  New  World  seems  to  have  made  me  some  bitter  female 
enemies  at  home,  and  not  having  ever  had  many  Dublin  friends  dear  enough  to  cor- 
respond with,  I'm  not  always  posted  on  matters  occ tiring  there.  I  enclose  my  like- 
ness, aken  a  month  ago.  I  wonder,  if  you  were  out  and  free  now,  would  you  love  me 
as  well  as  you  d  d  four  years  ago.  I  am  changed,  Cariss — harder,  imperious,  self- 
willed  and  irritable  at  t  mes.  I  should  love  you  better  now  if  you  have  not  been 
spoiled  in  prison.  There  is  no  man  living,  if  I  were  free  to  choose,  I  could  love  better. 
Comparison  wth  all  t  e  best  men  in  Ireland  or  America  would  not  injure  you;  on  the 
contrary,  you  appear  brghter  in  the  scale.  But  there  were  some  po  nts  in  your 
character  the  li  tie  woman  of  '6S  bore  most  patiently.  I  would  not  promise  the  same 
forbearance  from  the  matured,  self-willed  and  exigeant  woman  of  '68.  But  I  suppose 
there's  time  enough  to  settle  the  question  when  you  are  out  of  prison. 
Faithfully  and  affectionateljT,  your  wife, 

MARY  J.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

Chatham  Prison,  November  2d,  1869. 

Well,  Mollis,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  It  looks  as  if  "  absence  makes  the 
heart  grow  fonder"  was  to  be  knocked  into  smithereens  by  us  ;  that  is,  if  we  are  to 
judge  by  our  correspondence,  or  rather  by  the  absence  of  yours,  for  I  have  made 
some  efforts  to  convey  to  you  at  least  an  assurance  of  your  engaging  a  fair  share  of 
"  my  thoughts  by  day  a.d  my  dreams  by  night,"  as  the  old  love-letters  say.  But  my 
efforts  have  failed,  my  letters  have  not  reached  you;  you  begin  to  fear  that  I  have 
forgotten  you,  and  you  cease  to  write.    Your  father  tells  me  these  are  your  fears. 

Your  own  letter  of  the  13th  Dec,  '68,  tells  me  so  too.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much 
I  would  admire  the  stand-off  dignity  of  sue h  a  passage  in  your  letter  as  this,  were  I  not 
so  intimately  concerned  in  it :  "  If  what  the  Governor  said  was  true  about  your  breaking 
the  rules  so  often,  you  certainly  did  not,  or  do  not,  care  to  write  to  me.  I  don't  mean  to 
write  you  a  long  letter  until  I  know  ;"  and  as  I  haven't  been  able  to  let  you  know,  you 
haven't  written  me  either  a  long  or  a  short  letter  since.  Neither  can  I  now  let  you 
know  if  what  the  Governor  said  was  true  or  not.  It  is  for  trying  to  do  such  things  as  this 
that  six  or  seven  letters  which  I  wrote  for  you  have  been  suppressed,  and  I  mean  to 
let  the  authorities  have  it  all  their  own  way  now,  and  say  nothing  particular  of  the 
past,  which  would  prevent  this  from  reaching  you.  Your  memory  is  not  so  bad 
as  not  to  recollect  I  told  you  at  that  Millbank  visit  to  write  to  me  every  two 
months  whether  you  heard  from  me  or  not,  and  you  have  written  once  in  two  years. 
Our  short  married  life  perhaps  did  not  afford  you  time  enough  to  know  me  thorough- 
ly, and  probably  you  may  incline  to  think  that  my  true  character  is  that  given 
by  my  enemies;  yet  I  do  not  believe  this  is  so.  But  why  do  I  say  it?  Just  to  give 
you  a  bit  of  a  scolding.  Should  fate  place  us  together  again,  I  should  like  my  happi- 
ness to  be  such  as  it  has  been,  but  you  would  have  to  do  some  great  penance  to  atone 
for  your  distrust  of  my  affection. 

"  How  do  I  know  but  you  have  mentally  buried  me  and  caused  a  resurrection  of 
your  dead  loves  ?"  I  recollect  your  giving  me  a  touch  of  this  once  before  in  the  world. 
I  suppose  the  thought  disturbs  all  men  and  women  who  marry  "  relicts."  I  have 
been  thinking  how  to  meet  this  poser  of  yours,  and  I  could  not  find  a  better  way  than 
that  of  asking  you,  Would  your  affection  for  your  first-born  be  divided  if  he  had  a 
little  brother?  But  enough  of  this  now.  Your  father  has,  I  dare  say,  sent  you  my 
letter,. and  I  am  expecting  an  answer  from  you  every  day,  consequent  upon  the 
receipt  of  that  by  you.  From  the  way  things  were  going  when  I  saw  you  at  Mill- 
bank  I  thought  I  would  have  to  give   myself  a  little  ease  j!by  paying  little  atten. 


0 ) Donovan  Rosses  Prison  Life.  335 

tion  to  regulations,  which  seemed  to  me  to  have  no  aim  but  .my  annoyance,  and  a 
month  or  so  after  I  saw  you  I  let  a  little  of  this  gas  escaped  which  was  burning  within 
me.    One  day  I  had  my  task  of  work  done  some  ten  minutes  before  the  appointed 
time,  and,  waiting  to  have  the  officer  arrive  with  a  fresh  lot,  I  took  a  book  in  my 
hand.    1  was  seen  in  this  position  by  that  jolly  gentleman  who  superintended  our  in- 
terview, and  I  was  punished  for  idleness.    This  was  the  last  straw  on  the  camel's  back, 
and  I  pitched  their  rules  and  regulations  to  Jericho  for  a  time.    Of  course,  the  laws 
had  to  be  enforced  and  Iliad  to  take  the  consequence.  But  I  felt  relieved,  and"  the  fever 
burning  atthe  core  "  burned  less  fiercely.    Only  for  I  relieved  myself  this  way  I  would 
undoubtedly  have  consumed  nryself  away — eaten  myself.  It  was  a  sanitary  measure  on 
my  part,  one  necessary  to  preserve,  or  atleastto  prolong,  my  life.    I  had  notthatdevo- 
tion  either  for  my  country  or  for  my  wife  that  Judy  Flanagan's  lover  had  for  her, 
when  he  professed  himself  willing  to  "  die  for  her  sake."    I  would  rather  live  for  my 
loves — you  and  your  rival.    You  understand  I  have  in  my  mind  your  poem  of  "He 
told  me  l.e  loved  another  bes  de."    Mr.  Fagan,  the  Director,  told  me  "they  would 
probably  allow  m?  to  get  tho.se  poems  of  yours  if  the  book  was  sent,  but  your  father 
has,  it  seems,  lost  the  two  copies  of  them  which  came  to  Ireland.    If  you  would  come 
to  Ireland  as  your  father  expects  about  Christmas,  you  may  desire  to  see  me.    I  have 
spoken  to  t  e  D  rector  about  the  matter ;  he  says  there  would  be  no  difficulty  placed 
in  )Tour  way.  Only  that  you  would  take  it  as  an  encouragement  on  my  part,  I  would  ask 
to  have  a  ticket  sent  to  }rou,  but  really  I  do  not  wish  you  should  incur  any  ex- 
pense in  doing  so.    A  look  at  me  for  twenty  minutes  would  do  you  no  g  >od.    Don't 
think  by  my  saying  this  I  have  lost  any  of  my  beauty  or  affection.    No,  Mollis.   Hal 
and  John  Devoy  say  I  am  as  handsome  as  I  was  the  day  you  fell  in  love  with  me, 
and  I  don't  f  el  any  loss  or    iminution  of  the  other  quality  if  you  would  only  be  rea- 
sonable.  And  I  am  sure  I  teas  very  fond  of  you,  but  I  admit,  as  I  said  in  the  suppres- 
sed letters,  that  I  had  a  very  queer  way  of  showing  it.    I  also  admit  there  woul  I  be 
room  to  make  you  feel  happier,  in  my   conduct  towards  you  from  the  altar  to  the 
prison,  bat  you  would  fail  in  any  effort  of  a  similar  nature  towards  me.    I  have  often 
reflected  when  feeling  the  dreariness  of  solitary  confinement,  how  much  of  it  I  gave 
you  in  Dublin,  and  how  uncomplainingly  you  endured  it     I  recollect  you  were  sick 
one  Sunday  ;  I  got  some  medicine  for  you  ;  I  then  went  out  and  left  you  alone  till  din- 
ner hour.    This  was  almost  cruel,  and  you  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  I  had  to 
be  out  and  never  grumbled.    I  understood  that  I  was  trespassing  rather  too  much  on 
a  w  fe's  priv  l.-ges  at  the  time.    Your  "  feigningto  be  happy  to  make  me  so  "  had  the 
desired  effect,  and  made  me  fonder  of  you  too.  Whether  I  am  ever  to  return  you  the 
compliment,  God  alone  knows.    I  got  the  letter  you  wrote  to  me  after  your  arrival  in 
America,  and  the  poem  wherein  you  allule  to  your  "  fossilheart."  I  got  aphotograph 
that  accompanied  your  last  letter.    I  have  it  fixed  on  the  back  of  the  door — a  queer 
place  you  will  say — but  my  habits  here  are  such  that  I  keep  my  door  ever  shut  when 
at  home,  and  t  eji  you  are  looking  over  the  whole  house  and  its  sole  occupant.  I  think  I 
addressed  you  a  couple  of  times  with  the  salutation,  "  Ah,  you  are  dead — Mollis."    The 
four  boyssentme  aphoiograpliofthem,  too.  Ihave  itnotinmy  cell, but  I  can  occasion- 
ally get  a  look  at  it  upon  application.   Croum  is  not  himself  in  it,  but  the  others  I  recog- 
nize. Mr.  Lawless  asked  me  if  I  would  signify  to  him  my  approval  of  your  sending  those 
boys  to  school  to  Belgium,  and  I  told  him  I  had  already  signified  to  you,  repeated- 
ly, that  they  were  at  your  disposal  if  you  could  do  anything  for  them.  But  I  cannot  un- 
derstand the  matter.    There  is  s  mething  in  it  to  be  explained.    Can  you  enlighten 
me  ?    You  cannot  have  as  much  money  as  would  insure  the  continuance  of  such  a 
course  cf  education.    Public  funds  cannot  be  so  plentiful  as  to  obtain  for  all  the  chil- 
dren of  my  fellow-sufferers  such  attention,  and  I  do  not  like  for  mine  more  than  others 
can  have.    Of  course,  I  would  like  them  to  have  a  good  education,  but  with  the  loss  of 
my  ability  to  do  a  father's  part  I  surrender  the  right  to  speak  in  affairs  that  depend 
on  finances.    From  your  father  I  learn  that  the  squabbles  of  party  have  brought  you 
into  the  ugly  circle  of  contention,  too.    This  I  regret  as  much  as  I  regret  anything. 
I  should  wish  you  had  kept  outside  all  those  disputes.    Perhaps  you  deemed  it  ne- 
cessary to  secure  audiences  to  adopt  a  party  ;  if  so,  it  is  deplorable.    But  when  you 
are  on  your  own  resources  I  must  give  you  liberty  of  opinion,  and   cannot  be  thin- 
skinned  on  the  subject  of  my  wife  becoming  a  manly  character.  As  to  disputes  regard- 
ing your  father's  treatment  of  the  children,  I  suppose  those  are  what  you  allude  to  in 
your  letter  of  last  December.  When  you  become  a  public  speaker  or  reader  you  enter 
that  life  which  excites  animadversion,  and  you  must  make  up  your  mind  to  take  all  the 
disagreeable1  ess  of  te  position  with  a  strong  mind.    Let  me  know  all  you  can.    Send 
me  a  copy  of  the  worst  things  that  1  ave  been  said  of  you.    In  your  letter  of  July,  '67, 
you  Slid  a  few  thines  which  were  hard,  such  us  asking  why  I  could  not  conduct  my- 
self in  prison  like  Mr.  Luby,  Mr.  O'Leary,  and  others,  who  were  high-spirited  men. 
Tney  (the  hard  things)  might  not  be  so  hard  if  I  could  tell  you  why,  but  when  my 
mouth  was  sealed  the  most  painful  thing  to  mo  w.  s  to  find  myself  spoken  to  iu  this 


336  0  ^Donovan  Rosses  Prison  Life. 

manner.  I  have  no  objection  that  you  would  open  the  sorrows  of  your  heart  to  me, 
and  ^f  you  wish  to  reproach  me  with  neglect  of  the  worldly  welfare  of  my  family 
that  is  all  fair  enough,  but  have  nothing  to  say  about  my  -prison  conduct  \  you  .can 
have  only  one  side  of  the  story.  You  have  not  3ret  had  replies  to  things  you  asked 
me  three  years  ago  when  I  was  in  Portland.  Well,  some  of  them  remained  in  my 
mind,  and  I  will  strike  them  off  here. 

Tne  unpleasantness  between  you  and  Denis  0 'Donovan — I  was  to  blame  for  that. 
I,  in  Richmond,  led  you  to  think  that  he  owed  me  money,  as  I  wished  to  have,  through 
him,  what  was  due  to  me  in  the  office  ;  and  the  Governor  of  the  prison  being  watch- 
ing every  word  that  dropped  from  me,  after  the  arrests  that  time,  I  was  notable  to 
convey  to  you  what  was  the  exact  thing  I  meant.  Den.  acted  kindly  towards  me — I 
connot  forget  that.  I  did  not  get  the  letter  he  sent  you,  and  I  must  scold  him  for 
writing  to  you  so  harshly  as  he  did.  If  anything  remained  to  be  settled  between  us 
it  could  not  be  more  than  a  few  dollars.  The  amount  due  to  me  at  the  office,  when 
that  was  pounced  upon,  was  £75  or  so ;  and  if  that  was  not  paid  to  you,  privately  or 
personally,  it  has  been  paid  fourfold  by  the  public  in  the  maintenance  of  my  children 
since,  and  that  is  the  way  I  would  wish  you  to  look  at  it.  From  your  father's  letters 
to  Halpin  and  Warren  I  learned  much  about  you,  when  I  could  learn  nothing  directly 
myself. 

I  suppose  you  have  met  Col.  Warren  since  his  release.  We  would  be  more  lively 
if  we  had  him  amongst  us,  but  I  dare  say  he  prefers  to  be  out.  I  believe  tl  e  last 
words  I  said  to  another  companion,  named  Costello,  were  to  write  my  remembrance 
to  you,  if  he  got  himself  outside  the  prison  walls  at  any  time.  Do  not  waste  money, 
if  you  have  any  to  spare,  by  attempting  to  get  me  out  of  prison  by  an  appeal  to  the 
House  of  Lords.  You  may  as  well,  as  I  said  to  your  father,  throw  your  purse  into 
the  deep,  and  say,  "  See,  Cariss,  what  I  do  for  love  of  you." 

By-the-by,  Mollis,  I  have,  these  months  past,  been  looking  over  Italian,  and  I 
think  of  you,  of  course,  when  I  meet  your  words.  I  cannot  study  hard.  About  this 
time  twelve  months  I  felt  some  disagreeableness,  up  to  that  unknown  to  me — a  pain 
in  the  spine,  which  became  more  active  whenever  I  became  more  studious  or  con- 
templative. I  bothered  the  doctor  for  the  first  three  or  four  months  about  it,  but  he 
seemed  to  think  nothing  of  it.  I  suppose  he,  in  the  enlightenment  of  his  profession, 
only  sees  in  it  the  natural  consequence  of  this  discipline,  and  I  have  ceased  to  be 
uneasy  at  its  recurrence.  Only  for  it  I  could  enjoy  this  place  now,  as  I  have  got  some 
books  lately  which  were  not  available  before. 

The  Protestant  Chaplain  has  kindly  lent  me  his  own  Irish  Bible,  with  the  permis- 
sion of  the  priest.  Both  are  Irishmen,  and  if  permitted  to  speak  oft  em  it  would  be 
kindly.  They  grace  the  names  ©f  O'Sullivan  and  Duke,  and  hail  from  Cork  and  Kerry. 
The  priest  is  from  Castletown  Berehaven.  1  have  read  a  German  grammar  this  year 
also,  but  the  other  three  years  of  my  time  go  for  nothing.  Your  father  says  you  were 
in  Boston,  preparing  for  a  tour  to  Canada.  That  is  Warren's  locality,  and  if  you  did 
not  call  to  see  him,  he,  I  am  sure,  called  to  see  you.  Be  must  have  made  a  great 
"  spread  "  in  Cork  last  Patrick's  Day.  I  had  a  visit  a  few  days  after  from  Mr.  Down- 
ing, and  he  seemed  to  think  that  Colonel  Warren  played  the  deuce  with  our  prospect 
of  freedom.  Other  visitors  after  followed  up  in  the  s^  me  strain.  But  to  us  this  is  all 
moonshine.  I  think  I  said  to  one  of  my  visitors,  who  asked  my  opinion  on  the  matter, 
that  if  Mr.  Warren  acted  illegally  the  law  was  at  hand  to  call  him  to  account,  and  as 
to  what  he  would  say  out  of  prison  injuring  us  in  prison,  we  were  in  the  hands  of 
magnanimous  Englai  d,  etcetera,  and  so  forth.  If  our  masters  cannot  manufacture 
better  excuses  than  such  as  that  they  are  losing  their  genius.  I  believe  it  is  Gibbon 
says  that  an  enemy  respects  you  in  proportion  as  you  arouse  his  fears.  Setting  out 
from  this,  we  try  to  flatter  ourselves  a  little,  "  and  suck  up  as  much  honey  as  we  can 
out  of  this  vinegar  life."  It  would  appear  that  we  are  not  altogether  the  despicable, 
worthless  characters  which  our  enemies  would  represent  us.  The  censors  of  my  let- 
ter ought  not  object  to  that  word  "  enemy"  being  used  by  me.  Tie  world  has  ever 
used  it  to  express  the  relations  that  exist  between  the  conqueror  and  his  victim.  I 
should  dearly  wish  to  see  all  Irishmen  and  Englishmen  in  the  position  of  friei  ds.  Tell 
me  everything,  big  and  little,  about  yourself— your  pecuniary  resources,  income  and 
expenditure,  etc.    I  suppose  you  are  aware  that  I  am  now  located  with  strangers,  I 

may  say — that  is,  I  lave  none  of  the  old  companions  of  '65. 

********* 

The  three  first  came  here  from  America.  I  wish  we  had  O'Leary  and  Luby 
amongst  us,  now  that  we  are  allowed  to  talk  somewhat,  but  then  my  wishes 
could  not  be  realized  without  depriving  others  of  the  pleasure  of  t!  eir  com- 
pany. We  are  at  in-door  work  all  Summer,  and  only  for  t!  e  cloud  of  dust 
around  us,  it  would  be  more  agreeable  in  Winter  than  out-door  labor.  We  are 
mending  stockings  which,  supposed  to  be  clean,  are  anything  but  that — at  least  they 
do  kick  up  a  dust  amongst  us.    We  bear  with  each  others'  infirmities  pretty  tolerably, 


O"*  Donovan  Rosso? 8  Prison  Life.  337 

The  only  question  we  cannot  agree  upon  is — how  far  God  interferes  or  interferes  not  in 
the  government  of  the  petty  things  of  earth  ?  One  points  10  the  passage  in  Scripture 
which  says  that  God  delivers  one  people  over  to  another  in  punishment  of  their  sins, 
and  another,  to  put  a  crusher  on  ILm,  says :  "Now,  can  you  tell  me  if  any  of  our  Mile- 
sian ancestors  were  present  and  assisted  the  Jews  at  the  Crucifixion  of  Christ?" 
Then  the  subject  can  go  no  farther,  and  we  take  an  hour's  exercise.  Someway,  I 
cannot  write  here  without  feeling  s;ck.  The  restraint,  the  effort  to  avoid  some  things 
and  seek  other  things,  agrees  not  with  my  present  constitution.  People  like  to  be 
quoted,  and  as  want  of  space  obliges  me  to  conclude  now,  I  will  do  so  with  one  of 
your  expressions,  and  say,  "I  wdl  no;,  write  you  a  long  letter  until  I  know,"  &c. 
You  will" have  seen  my  letter  to  your  father  ere  you  receive  this,  and  I  have  said  in 
that  something  for  you  which  needs  not  repetition  here.  Give  my  remembrance 
to  all  my  friends.    Good  by,  Mollis.    God  bless  you.    Be  strong. 

Yours  affectionately,  as  ever, 

JER.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

In  the  month  of  February,  1870,  a  few  months  after  writing  this 
letter,  I  had  a  visit  from  my  wife.  There  was  much  talk  in  the 
newspapers  about  an  amnesty,  and  friends  had  been  telling  her  that 
we  were  very  stubborn  in  prison,  and  would  listen  to  no  terms  of 
release ;  that  the  Ministry  could  not  be  the  first  to  knock  under,  and 
that  it  only  needed  an  approach  from  the  prisoners'  friends,  with  a 
request  for  release,  to  get  a  favorable  answer  from  Mr.  Gladstone. 

When  I  heard  my  wife  was  coming  on  such  a  mission  as  this  I 
felt  a  little  trouble-minded.  The  authorities  had  been  trying  during 
four  or  five  years  to  reduce  me  to  the  level  of  a  thief  or  pickpocket, 
and  I  had  been  trying  to  show  them  they  could  never  succeed.  I  could 
write  a  "petition  "  myself,  and  did  write  some,  but  to  have  any  one 
else  write  or  say  anything  for  me  is  what  I  would  not  allow ;  and 
when  one  so  near  to  me  as  my  wife  was  to  write  or  speak  in  the  mat- 
ter it  would,  of  course,  be  taken  for  granted  that  she  spoke  with  au* 
thority,  and,  though  I  had  some  opinion  of  her  ability  to  state  her 
case  honorably,  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  a  very  uncomfortable 
anxiety  lest  anything  should  be  said  that  would  give  my  enemies 
satisfaction. 

When  we  met  in  Chatham  I  grumbled  some  doubts  as  to  the  pro- 
priety of  her  interfering  with  "  the  cause  of  justice,"  and  she  gave  me 
every  promise  and  assurance  she  would  do  or  say  nothing  that 
wasn't  Irish  and  manly.  How  far  she  lias  kept  that  promise  may  be 
judged  by  the  following,  which  I  copy  from  a  scrap-book  of  hers : 

SKETCH  OF  MY  LIFE  SINCE  1867— MRS.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA— Part  HI. 

There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  tell  the  terms  I  was  prepared  to  make  for  my 
husband's  release.  They  were  honorable  enough  to  meet  the  approval  of  the  most 
unbending  patriot,  and  I  supposed  them  complaisant  enough  also  to  meet  the  views  of 
the  reputedly  merciful  Premier.  They  are  contained  in  the  letter  copied  here  which 
when  Mi-.  Gladstone  refused  to  see  me,  I  laid  in  Mr.  Motley's  hands  to  be  by  his  kind* 
ness  personally  delivered  to  Mr.  Gladstone. 

COPY   OF   MY  PROPOSITION   TO   THE   PREMIER  REGARDING   THE   RELEASE   OF   MY  HUSBAND. 

London,  15th  Feb'y,  1870. 
To  the  Rt.  Hon.  W.  E.  Gladstone,  M.  P. : 

Sir:  You  have  denied  me  the  favor  of  a  personal  interview,  and  I  feel  deeply  dis- 
appointed at  that  denial.  I  have  traveled  more  than  3,000  miles  in  mid-winter  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  pleading  a  cause  which  you  will  not  hear — the  cause  of  a  husband,  to 
whom,  were  he  a  sinner  against  any  other  government  than  that  of  England,  or  natiye 


338  0 ' }  Donovan  Rossa?8  Prison  Life. 

of  any  other  sod  than  that  of  Ireland,  I  have  no  doubt  your  ready  sympathy  would 
flow,  in  recognition  of  his  sacrifices  and  sufferings  for  principle  and  liberty. 

This  is  not  the  tone  iu  which  I  should  be  advised  by  a  practiced  advocate  to  ad 
dres  you,  but  I  am  not  a  practiced  advocate,  only  a  young  Irishwoman  and  Bossa's 
wife,  who,  even  in  the  depth  of  her  humility  and  disappointment,  cannot  find  it  in  her 
heart  to  say  anything  unworthy  of  her  husband  or  of  the  cause  that  he  endeavored 
to  advance. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  have  no  wish  to  write  a  single  word  in  vindication  of  my 
husband's  conduct  in  anything  which  the  law  under  which  he  suffers  has  condemned. 
It  would  be  unbecoming  in  me  to  advance  anything,  even  in  my  husband's  favor, 
wbich  it  would  be  contrary  to  your  duty  to  entertain;  nor  dare  I  hope  that  any 
words  of  mine  could  convince  you  of  the  justice,  the  wisdom,  and  the  policy  of  releas- 
ing my  husband  from  confinement,  if  your  sense  of  State  necessity  has  suggested  an 
opposite  course.  But,  as  far  as  I  can  gather  from  the  expressions  that  have  pro- 
ceeded from  your  Government  on  various  occasions,  it  would  appear  that  your  reso- 
lution in  the  matter  is  founded  not  upon  the  necessity  of  inflicting  further  punishment 
upon  the  political  prisoners  still  remaining  in  confinement,  but  upon  the  danger  that 
would  result  to  the  public  peace  by  setting  them  at  large.  I  cannot  deny,  even  to 
my  own  mind,  that  there  may  be  some  reason  in  this  view  of  the  case ;  but  I  anxiously 
hope  that  I  have  found  a  solution  of  the  difficulty,  which  I  venture  to  submit  to  your 
sense  of  generosity  and  justice. 

In  my  recent  visit  to  my  husband  at  Chatham  I  solicited  and  obtained  from  him 
the  assurance,  that  to  regain  his  personal  liberty  he  would  be  w  lling  to  submit  to  any 
terms,  not  inconsistent  with  his  personal  honor  and  character,  that  the  Government 
might  propose.  He  would  consent  to  leave  these  islands  forever  under  penalty  of 
arrest  and  forfeiture  o(  his  pardon  in  case  of  his  return  without  permission.  He 
would  prefer  to  go  to  America  because  I  have  made  that  country  my  home ;  but  if  the 
Crown  should  insist  that  exile  to  any  other  part  of  the  globe  should  be  the  price  of 
his  freedom,  he  is  still  willing  to  accept  the  condition,  and  I  am  willling  to  share  it. 

These  terms  were  extended  to  Mr.  Hamilton  Rowan  and  several  others  impli- 
cated in  the  insurrection  of  1798  by  the  government  of  that  day,  and  they  were  not 
found  to  have  endangered  the  peace  of  the  country.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  justice  has 
not  grown  more  unrelenting,  or  the  quality  of  England's  mercy  more  strained,  since 
that  period.  "Whatever  danger  might  be  apprehended  in  the  release  of  my  husband 
and  his  fellow  prisoners  in  this  country,  their  influence  could  not  contribute  a 
feather's  weight  to  the  balance  of  good  and  evil  throughout  the  world,  and  to  what- 
ever part  of  the  world  you  may  assign  us  a  resting  place  we  are  ready  to  take  our 
way. 

In  submitting  this  proposal  to  your  consideration.  I  entreat  you  to  bear  in  mind 
that  I  anxiously,  though  patiently,  await  the  result ;  and  while  feeling  miserably  un- 
equal to  the  task  of  influencing  your  judgment  on  such  a  subject,  I  yet  humbly 
address  my  prayers  to  God  that  He  may  show  you  some  way  by  which  you  can  rec- 
oncile your  desire  to  be  merciful  with  "your  sterner  sense  of  state  policy  and  state 
justice. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  sir,  your  most  obedient  servant, 

MARY  J.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

P.  S. — I  am  about  to  visit  my  relatives  in  Ireland,  and  trusting  a  communication 
may  reach  me  there  from  you,  I  append  my  Irish  address, 

MRS.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA, 
Strand  House,  Clonakilty  Co.,  Cork,  Ireland. 

mb.  Gladstone's  reply. 

11  Carlton  House  Terrace,  S.  W.,  18  March,  1870. 

Madam  :  Circumstances  not  under  my  own  control  compelled  me  to  announce  in 
the  House  of  Commons  last  night,  at  very  short  notice,  what  I  should  have  preferred 
to  communicate  to  you  in  the  first  instance  individually  and  privately — this,  namely, 
that  we  are  forbidden  by  considerations  of  public  duty  to  allow  any  further  release  of 
political  prisoners  until  we  can  procure  such  a  change  in  the  condition  of  Ireland  as 
shall  afford  a  greater  degree  of  peace  and  security  to  the  people  of  that  country,  now 
in  several  parts  of  it  exposed  to  violence,  distracted  by  alarm,  and  apprehensive  of  a 
dissolution  of  man3r  of  the  ties  by  which  soc  ety  is  bound  together. 

During  the  interval  since  I  wrote  to  you  I  have  made  inquiry  to  learn  whether 
there  were  any  particulars  which  would  enable  the  Government  to  draw  a  line  in 
favor  of  your  husband  without  injustice  to  others,  but  I  grieve  to  say  I  have  been  un- 
able to  discover  any  particulars  of  such  a  character. 


C  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  339 

fou  will  be  well  al»le  to  appreciate  the  gravity  of  the  considerations  which 
have  weighed  upon  my  mind  and  the  minds  of  my  colleagues  and  I  hope  you  may 
join  with  us  at  least  in  earnestly  desiring  the  arrival  of  better  days. 

I  remain,  Madam,  your  very  faithful  servant, 

W.  E.  GLADSTONE. 
Mbs.  O'DonovanRossa. 

I  have  nothing  to  say  to  this  reply  of  Mr  Gladstone's,  but  I  was 
so  uneasy  at  my  wife  having  anything  to  say  that  I  wrote  her  this  a 
few  days  after  she  had  visited  rue  : 

Friday,  February  18th,  1870, 1 
Chatham  Prison.  \ 
My  Dear  Wife:  Now  that  your  visits  and  yourself  are  gone,  the  afterthoughts 
come  to  remind  me  of  how  often  I  interrupted  you,  and  how  a  few  times  I  made  re- 
marks which  you  did  not  appear  to  take  as  I  meant.  With  a  view  that  you  may  fully 
understand  me,  I  have  asked  and  received  permission  to  write  to  you.  In  the  solitude 
of  this  cell  I  can  arrange  myself  in  better  order  to  convey  my  thoughts  than  under 
the  bewildering  influence  of  your  presence  during  those  angel  visits.  I  did  notlet  you 
tell  me  thro'  what  channel  you  got  a  letter  from  Mr.  Fish  to  Mr.  Motley,  requesting  him 
to  use  his  good  offices  in  my  favor,  or  who  or  what  put  this  idea  into  your  head — not  the 
idea  of  releasing  me,  but  that  of  having  a  friendly  interference  thro'  this  means  which 
would  promote  your  object.  When  you  told  me  at  your  first  interview  that  Mr.  Motley 
promised  you  an  interview  with  Mr.  "Gladstone,  and  when  I  said  that  I  did  not  see  how 
you  could  honorably  interfere,  I  fancied  your  brow  darkened  a  little,  and  I  thought  I 
may  as  well  let  you  have  your  experience,  as  you  were  confining  yourself  to  what  I 
stated  in  my  letter  to  your  father  regarding  what  passed  between  me  and  McCarthy 
Downing.  When  I  questioned  the  propriety  of  your  interference,  it  resulted  from 
supposing  that  Mr.  Gladstone  was  not  disposed  to  countenance  my  release  on  condi- 
tions of  leaving  the  country,  with  an  understanding  that  I  was  liable  to  be  recommitted 
to  prison  if  found  afterwards  in  England  or  Ireland  without  the  permission  of  the 
British  Government;  and  I  have  a  serious  objection  to  see  you  in  the  position  of  offer- 
ing what  there  was  no  intention  of  accepting.  This  I  believe  is  the  substance  oimy 
reply  to  Mr.  Downing  last  March,  when  he  asked  me  if  I  would  leave  the  country,  and 
told  me  the  Government  would  never  release  me  unless  I  did.  I  sent  for  him  to  see  if  he 
would — as  he  could  in  a  legitimate  manner — clear  the  way  for  my  suppressed  letters  to 
reach  you ;  but  he  turned  upon  this  subject,  and  thinking  he  had  some  intimation  from 
some  authority  to  interfere,  I  felt  no  hesitation  in  replying  to  him,  and  was  particular 
to  put  my  words  in  writing.  He  visited  me  again  in  July,  and  told  me  he  made  no  use 
yet  of  the  paper  I  gave  him ;  that  he  held  it  as  private,  tho'  I  told  him  I  did  not  be- 
grudge the  world  to  know  it.  I  felt  myself  in  a  false  position,  for  I  unwittingly  laid 
myself  open  to  have  it  said  that  I  had  given  Mr.  Downing  a  private  authoriza- 
tion to  intercede  for  my  release,  and  I  then  wrote  to  your  father  directing  him  to 
withdraw  the  paper  from  Mr.  Downing.  You  have  got  that  letter  of  mine  to  your 
father,  and  as  you  tell  me  that  your  letter  to  Mr.  Gladstone  contains  nothing  more 
than  what  I  have  stated  to  Mr.  Downing,  I  have  no  fear  that  the  honor  of  old  Ireland 
is  compromised  by  what  you  have  done.  Yet  you  say  that  having  signified  to  some  of 
my  friends  in  America  your  intention  of  paying  me  a  visit  and  making  an  endeavor  to 
know  if  my  release  could  be  obtained  by  my  going  there,  they  seemed  to  think  that 
I  should  not  leave  prison  on  such  conditions.  By  Jove,  they  are  spunkey.  I  would  like, 
too,  to  act  spiritedly  if  I  could  see  any  object  to  be  obtained  by  it ;  but  when  my  blood' 
is  not  up  to  the  mark  I  cannot  act.  I  have  met  hundreds  of  men  who  would  die  for 
Ireland,  but  I  have  often  lamented  my  own  deficiency  in  this  respect.  I  could  never 
work  myself  up  to  more  than  a  resolution  to  risk  life,  and  then  even  permeated  with 
a  strong  hope  and  desire  of  living.  Nature  does  much  for  many.  I  am  weak,  and 
whatever  I  may  think  of  leaving  Ireland  before  conviction,  once  I  find  myself  in  Eng- 
land with  9549  on  my  arm  I  find  myself  also  holding  the  opinion  that  I  do  nothing 
dishonorable  or  demoralizing  by  getting  rid  of  the  badge,  if  my  masters  allow  me  the 
choice  of  doing  so  by  leaving  the  country.  Doing  such  a  thing  as  this  would  not,  I 
think,  be  deemed  improper  in  the  Frenchman,  the  Italian,  the  Pole,  or  any  other 
nationality  in  chains.  "But,"  as  the  poet  asks,  "Where  is  the  nation  can  rival 
old  Erin,"  &c,  &c.  You  told  me  you  were  going  home  and  coming  to  London  again 
in  a  fortnight's  time,  I  did  not  ask  you  what  engagements  were  bringing  you  back, 
and  I  can  only  guess  that  it  is  in  furtherance  of  my  release.  If  so,  I  do  not  approve 
of  it.  You  say  that  tho'  the  Government  may  be  disposed  to  let  me  go  by  leaving  the 
country— as  is  the  opinion  of  some  of  your  friends— that  it  would  he  beneath  the  dig. 


340  O' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

nity  of  a  government  to  propose  such  a  thing  to  a  prisoner  ;  and  if  I  were  willing  to 
avail  of  the  conditional  liberty,  it  may  be  above  the  dignity  of  my  position  to  make  it 
known;  and  here  between  the  two  you  make  a  place  for  yourself,  and,  as  a  wife,  claim 
a  right  to  interest  yourself.  While  you  do  nothing  more  unreasonable  than  this,  I  can 
not  place  a  veto  upon  your  interference.  You  have  written  to  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  he 
it  is  to  be  presumed,  will  give  you  a  reply,  and  if  that  does  not  meet  your  proposal  I 
am  decidedly  averse  to  your  proceeding  further.  Perhaps,  now  that  my  friends 
would  compliment  me  with  parlimentary  honors,  the  most  polite  way  for  me  to  put  it  is, 
that  I  do  not  wish  you  should  seek  any  influence  to  embarrass  the  Minister  by  press- 
ing him  to  do  what  he  does  not  intend  doing.  When  you  told  me  my  election 
was  annulled  by  Parliament,  but  that  some  of  the  Irish  members  were  of  opinion  that 
the  proceeding  was  illegal  and  were  to  have  lawyers'  advice  on  the  matter,  you 
seemed  not  to  catch  the  spirit  in  which  I  said  that  the  issue  was  of  little  concern  to 
me.  I  meant  that  any  honor  conferred  on  me  was  that  conferred  by  the  people  of 
Tipperary,  and  any  compliment  or  meaning  their  vote  conveyed  was  not  changed  to 
me  by  a  vote  of  the  House  of  Commons.  Of  course  if  the  verdict  of  my  peers  in  Tipper- 
ary were  to  set  aside  the  verdict  of  a  Dublin  jury,  the  decision  that  my  election  was 
legal,  and  that  as  the  choice  of  the  constituency  I  should  be  allowed  freedom  of  action, 
would  not  be  a  matter  of  little  concern  to  me,  tho'  circumstances  might  not  contribute 
to  my  enjoyment  of  that  very  select  society  to  which  Tipperary  would  introduce  me. 
You  let  me  know  once  that  you  had  your  share  of  what  you  called  "  wife  pride."  Is 
it  strong  still— strong  enough  to  aid  you  in  your  hard  struggle  thro'  life  ?  Summon  it 
to  your  assistance  in  this  emergency.  In  one  of  your  poems  you  ask,  "  Eut  who  can 
love  and  be  wise?"  Some  of  the  ancient  poets  say  it  is  a  faculty  not  even  given  to  the 
Gods,  and  with  your  knowledge  of  this  weakness  which  accompanies  affection,  I  have 
rather  a  firm  trust  that  you  will  "  suffer  calmly  and  be  strong." 

Our  countrymen  seem  not  to  be  uninterested  in  our  fate,  and  I  am  satisfied  to  let 
that  be  decided  by  the  issue  of  those  events  over  which  I  have  no  control.  I 
recommended  you  not  to  spend  any  time  at  home  beyond  what  you  intended. 
I  did  this  apprehensive  of  that  sickness  of  heart  to  you  which  is  caused  by  de- 
ferred hope.  The  Minister  may  not  answer  you  decisively,  and  some  of  his  admirers 
may  suggest  to  you  an  unendurable  waiting.  The  wisdom  of  a  Solon  advised  Gover- 
nors to  keep  the  people  always  expecting  something,  and  the  people,  afraid  of  losing 
that  something,  would  be  sure  to  do  nothing.  Do  not,  Mollis,  waste  your  energies  in 
this  manner,  by  feeding  at  the  feet  of  the  British  Lion  on  hopes  which  may  be  vain. 
Do  not,  on  the  other  hand,  imagine  that  I  hurry  you  to  America,  thoroughly  approving 
of  the  career  awaiting  you  there.  It  is  some  satisfaction  to  me  to  know  that,  thrown 
on  your  own  resources,  you  can  obtain  an  honorable  livelihood,  but,  however  much 
your  ability  and  success  in  public  reading  may  have  pleased  me,  you  must  grant  me 
the  possession  of  a  little  husband  pride,  and  that  it  is  not  without  its  alloy  of  humilia- 
tion when  I  see  you  "  on  the  stage."  But  we  cannot  have  the  roses  without  the 
thorns.  I  do  not  know  if  all  husbands  feel  as  I  do,  but  I  will  confess  that  my  soul  is 
sometimes  shaken  at  seeing  a  wife  that  I  am  rather  fond  of  in  a  position  of  life  where 
the  most  exemplary  conduct  also  requires  a  shield  of  the  most  guarded  behavior  to 
protect  her  from  the  idle  tongue  of  society.  In  my  parting  letters  I  told  you  not  to 
tread  the  ground  heavily,  to  meet  the  world  with  as  light  a  heart  as  you  could  afford 
to  carry,  and  I  repeat  it  now,  for  I  have  never  doubted  but  that  you  would  fight  the 
hard  battle  with  all  safety  to  your  honor  and  mine.  Mr.  Fagan  visited  the  prison  on 
Wednesday,  and  I  asked  him  permission  to  write  two  letters  to  you— one  now,  and  one 
in  reply  to  one  you  promised  to  write  to  me,  and  he  granted  my  application.  I  then 
spoke  of  your  intention  to  visit  London  ere  you  departed  for  America,  and  your  ex- 
pressed intention  to  try  to  see  me  again,  and  he  was  good  enough  to  tell  the  Governor 
to  admit  you  if  you  came.  I  have  said  before  that  I  am  averse  to  your  coming  to  London 
if  you  have  no  business  but  to  try  to  get  possession  of  me.  I  do  not  presume  to  have 
a  right  or  authority  to  issue  peremptory  commands  to  you,  and  in  anything  I  say  do 
not  understand  that  I  am  speaking  peremptorily.  I  resign  the  title  to  speak  so  with 
my  inability  to  provide  for  you,  and  with  the  necessity  that  obliges  you  to  have  re- 
course to  your  own  resources  for  maintenance.  You  have  entitled  yourself  to  a  cer- 
tain !:berty  of  action,  to  a  right  to  use  your  own  mind  instead  of  mine  in  anything 
you  think  proper  to  do,  bearing  in  mind  that  any  liberty  which  would  restore  you  to 
me  without  a  name  unsullied,  such  as  when  you  were  torn  from  me,  would  be  a  liberty 
which  I  could  not  well  enjoy.  Our  short  married  life  furnishes  the  most  precious  gem 
to  my  "  Sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow,"  and  any  visions  of  the  future  that  steal  upon  »ne 
through  these  prison  bars  are  woven  in  with  you.  If  the  visions  are  not  to  be  real- 
ized, why  then— life  is  short,  the  shuttle  flies  fast,  and  the  silken  thread  will  come  to 
an  end  nearly  as  soon  as  the  rougher  one  that  has  had  experience  of  the  hackle.  A 
few  moments  only  between  the  Minister  and  me,  the  Queen  and  you,  all  to  receive 
whatever — let  us  hope — the  mercy  of  God  is  pleased  to  visit  us  within  a  world  different 


0  ^  Donovan  Bosscts  Prison  Life.  341 

from  this.  Do  not  imagine  I  want  to  nut  a  sad  thought  into  your  mind.  Some 
friend  of  mine  was  friendly  enough  to  give  you  to  understand  I  cared  very  little 
for  my  domestic  associations,  and  this  perhaps  tended  to  nourish  that  cold,  hard  feel- 
ing towards  me,  which  the  absence  of  my  letters  had,  as  you  said  in  yours,  planted  in 
your  heai't.  What  can  I  get  to  express  my  feelings  on  this  head?  Well,  only  this  : 
That  if  the  spiritual  heads  of  our  three  creeds,  the  Popes  of  England,  Rome  and  Scot- 
land were  to  visit  me  in  my  cell  and  say,  "Rossa,  in  the  blessedness  of  union,  the 
mysteries  of  the  future  have  been  revealed  to  us,  and  in  the  fullness  of  spiritual  au- 
thority we  come  to  offer  you  a  choice  of  two  things  :  one  is,  an  immediate  translation 
to  the  paradise  of  the  next  life  with  an  eternity  of  bliss,  and  the  other,  a  restoration 
to  your  wife  and  children  with  a  darkness  thro'  which  no  human  eye  can  penetrate, 
which  will  you  choose?''  I  would  say,  "  By  your  Majesties' leave,  the  poor  little  woman 
might  go  distracted  at  hearing  that,  with  my  own  free  will,  I  left  her  a  lone  widow ; 
I'll  go  to  see  her,  and  trust  to  the  mercy  of  Heaven  to  lead  us  thro'  the  darkness  into 
light." 

It  surprised  me  to  learn  you  had  no  communication  with  Mr.  Lawless  about 
sending  the  children  to  school  to  Belgium.     Last  July  he  told  me  you  wanted  my 

f>ermission  to  have  it  done.  I  told  him  you  ought  to  know,  you  were  at  full 
iberty  to  act  in  matters  of  that  kind,  but  could  not  see  how  you  were  to  ensure  a 
permanency,  and  he  did  not  enlighten  me.  This  I  now  see  was  part  of  the  movement 
that  got  you  to  interfere  in  that  lawsuit,  and  I  hope  you  will  profit  by  the  knowledge 
of  it.  Young  Tim's  opinion  of  me,  as  seen  by  his  letter,  is  not  a  very  flattering  one  ;  for 
his  mother's  sake  I  will  not  think  any  thing  harder  of  him.  I  suppose  legal  zeal  is 
held  to  excuse  everything.  I  read  James  Cody's  letter  and  yours ;  both  contain  some 
mistakes.  He  says  that  I  got  ten  per  cent,  interest  for  money  I  lent  the  Irish  people. 
I  thought  that  any  Callan  man  would  not  think  so  of  me.  I  do  not  approve  of  your 
thinking  to  provide  for  the  children  who  are  in  Dublin;  you  could  not  assure  anything 
permanent.  National  sympathy  is  more  enduring,  and  as  it  has  taken  the  children  of 
imprisoned  Irishmen  under  its  charge,  I  would  be  expressing  a  false  pride  if  I  said 
I  felt  much  humiliation  at  mine  being  so  provided  for. 

I  miss  three  poems  from  your  book,  the  Landscape,  the  Marriage,  and  an  un- 
finished one  which  contained,  to  my  mind,  a  beautiful  decription  of  Glengariff  scenery. 
The  editor  considered  the  Marriage  good,  and  intended  to  publish  it,  but  as  you  say 
you  almost  forget  the  reality,  I  must  not  wonder  at  your  loss  of  the  poetry  of  it.  I  do 
not  know  that  you  would  now  write  "What  care  I?"  Whatever  I  am  prepared  to  con- 
cede to  you  in  the  way  of  superiority,  Mollis,  there  is  one  thing  which  I  cannot  con- 
cede, and  that  is  the  faculty  of  your  loving  me  as  much  as  I  do  you.  Rid  myself  of 
this  presumption  and  do  not  again  fall  into  the  heresy  of  thinking  of  me  as  you  have 
done,  of  believing  what  every  one  is  pleased  to  say  of  me.  Write  and  tell  me  as  much 
as  you  can  what  you  intend  doing,  &c,  &c.  The  poem  "  In  the  Prison,"  contains  a 
hard  line:  "  Shall  base  desertion  of  my  country-friend."  John  Devoy  is  one  of  my  com- 
panions here,  and  one  of  those  who  was  led  to  adopt  the  course  that  brings  him  under 
this  line,  and  if  you  asked  me  to  point  out  a  few  men  who  would  lose  their  heads  be- 
foye  betraying  country  or  friend,  the  first,  perhaps,  I  would  pick  out,  would  be  John 
Devoy.  Change  this  line  if  you  bring  out  a  second  edition.  Of  course  you  will  re- 
member me  to  alPmy  friends.  I  wonder  Donchadh  has  not  answered  my  letter  to 
him.  Good-bye.  May  God  bless  and  strengthen  you.  Tim  grew  wonderfully  big,  en- 
tirely out  of  proportion  with  that  moustache  of  his.  I  suppose  all  your  brothers  and 
sisters  have  moved  forward  also.  If  you  would  not  be  jealous,  I  would  desire  particu- 
lar remembrance  to  Isabella.    I  suppose  your  little  son  has  grown  big,  too. 

Yours,  dear  Mollis,  ever  fondly, 

JER.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSS  A. 

Strand  House,  Clonakilty,  County  Cork,  April  27th,  1870. 

My  Dear  Ross  a  :  You  are  annoyed  with  me,  naturally  and  justly,  for  my  seeming 
negligence  in  writing  to  you.  I  do  not  know  what  excuse  to  form,  for  I  am  ignor- 
ant of  any  that  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  exonerate  me  from  my  guilt  of  procrastina- 
tion. I  have  put  off  from  day  to  day  the  letter  I  intended  to  write  you,  each  night 
thinking  "  I  will  surely  write  to-morrow,"  and  each  morrow  finding  me  either  begin- 
ning a  letter  doomed  to  remain  unfinished,  or  so  engrossed  with  the  usual  occupa- 
tions of  my  position  as  a  servant  of  the  public  that  no  time  remained  to  write.  Now 
I  am  home  for  a  week  or  two  with  a  tiresome  throat  affection,  I  have  neither  business 
nor  fatigue  to  prevent  the  fulfillment  of  this  little  duty,  and  so  I  begin. 

What  do  you  suppose  I  have  been  doing  all  day? — cleaning  an  old  broken  picture 
of  vours  ('twas  broken  in  Cork  the  da\*  you  last  sailed  for  America),  and  dispatching 
it  with  voluminous  directions  and  an  exact  description  of  the  color  of  your  eyes, 
hair,  beard  and  complextion  to  an  eminent  artist,  that  he  mav  get  me  a  decent  oil 
painting  from  it,  to  console  me,  now  that  Mr.  Gladstone  refuses  to  give  me  the 


342  O' 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

original.  And  if  you  only  knew  where  that  little  Cork  picture  has  been  all  the  time ! 
Do  you  remember  any  young  lady  who  would  feel  so  deep  an  interest  in  you  that  she 
would  not  scruple  to  bribe  a  servant  to  steal  it  from  my  unoccupied  room  at  home 
for  her ;  and  after  "  illegal "  possession  of  it  for  a  couple  of  years,  would  find  her  con- 
science— quickened  in  view  of  a  journey  to  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic — urging 
her  to  disgorge  her  unlawfully-gotten  property,  and  lace  the  ocean  after  restitution? 
Do  you  know  where  you  might  look  for  such  a  person  ?  I  won't  tell  you  her  name ; 
but  it  is  a  fact  that  the  little  picture,  after  a  mysterious  disappearance  of  several 
years,  has  turned  up  very  much  the  worse  for  wear,  and  we  at  home  have  gathered 
the  information  that  one  of  the  servants  pilfered  it,  originally,  for  a  romantic  young 
lady  of  your  acquaintance;  that  said  young  lady  treasured  it  ever  since;  and  that 
some  time  ago,  as  she  was  making  up  her  spiritual  accounts  prior  to  her  departure 
for  America,  the  picture  became  a  skeleton  of  dread  to  her  conscience,  and  she  had 
it  conveyed  back  to  the  family  mansion — whence  it  has  gone  on  a  fresh  journey  to- 
day. Now,  isn't  it  quite  refreshing  to  any  masculine  vanity  the  prison  has  not  worn 
off  you,  that  you  can  still  hold  your  ground  in  the  feminine  heart  despite  of  time 
and  absence  and  newer  suitors?  I  have  heard  men  say,  with  an  earnestness  that  ad- 
duced honesty,  they  envied  you  even  in  prison.  But  the  world  is  very  ill-advised  and 
envious  altogether,  for  I  am  positive  there  are  many  women  who  would  gladly  ex- 
change positions  with  me.  Very  few  types  remain  of  that  famous  old  "  Miller  of  the 
Dee,"  who  envied  and  was  envied  by  nobody. 

About  two  weeks  ago  I  met  Robert  Eagar,  at  the  Limerick  Junction.  I  wouldn't 
have  known  him,  but  he  came  up  and  introduced  himself.  He  was  on  his  way  to 
England,  and  wanted  to  know  how  he  could  get  to  see  you.  I  gave  him  all  the  in- 
formation in  my  power,  and  promised  to  write  myself  1o  Mr.  Fagan  to  request  that  he 
may  be  admitted  to  see  you.  Now,  don't  get  mad  if  I  acknowledge  I  never  wrote 
since  till  to-day;  but  then  there  is  one  extenuating  circumstance :  Mr.  Eagar  told  me 
he  would  be  a  month  in  London,  and  any  time  before  its  expiration  would  do  to  get 
the  pass,  so  I  did  not  endanger  any  chance  he  has  of  seeing  you.  Papa  told  you  in 
his  letter  about  Mr.  Gladstone's  refusal  to  set  you  at  liberty.  I  gave  Mr.  Moore  no 
authority  to  return  thanks  to  the  Premier,  for  I  considered  I  had  nothing  to  thank 
him  for — merely  a  civil  and  exceedingly  diplomatic  letter,  after  several  weeks'  wait- 
ing in  suspense.  My  only  consolation  is,  that  neither  in  the  tone  nor  wording  of  mv 
letter  of  proposition  was  there  anything  I  could  regret  or  that  you  could  wish  re- 
moved. Let  that  satisfy  you;  your  honoris  safe  in  my  hands  as  in  your  own  heart. 
I  do  regret  one  step,  and  only  one,  I  took  since  we  were  separated;  that  is  the  law- 
suit against  the  Belmont-O'Mahoney  Fund,  into  which  your  Cousin  Tim  hurried  me. 
If  he  had  not  happened  to  stand  in  such  relationship  to  you,  I  should  have  been  less 
easily  led.  It  is  the  only  action  in  which  I  have  suffered  other  people  to  entirely  in- 
fluence or  direct  my  course  or  to  cast  a  shade  over  my  own  judgment.  You  will 
laugh  to  vourself,  and  say  lam  growing  very  self-opinionated:  I  have  doubts  some- 
times as  to  the  advisability  of  getting  so  strong-minded — in  view,  you  know,  of  some 
day  being  again  called  upon  to  "  obey."  I  think  vou  will  lead  a  dreadfully  unhappy  life 
with  me,  for  I  have  entirely  lost  that  amiable  dependency  and  timidity  of  provoking 
reproof  which,  I  think,  constituted  my  charm  for  you  in  old  times. 

Lest  I  forget  it,  I  will  mention  here  that  I  happpned  to  be  a  fellow  traveler  of  Mr. 
McCarthy  Downing,  on  Saturday  evening,  from  the  Limerick  Junction  to  Cork. 
Twas  so  late  on  reaching  the  city  I  went  to  the  Victoria  Hotel  for  the  night,  and  had 
only  just  finished  supper  when  Mr.  Downing  sent  up  to  know  if  I  would  see  him.  I 
went  down  stairs  and  met  my  fellow  traveler;  found  he,  like  myself,  had  had  to  break 
his  journey  to  home  in  Cork,  and  that  we  would  be  as  far  as  Bandon  together  on  Sun- 
day morning.  He  showed  me  that  document  you  gave  him  some  months  since,  but  did 
not  offer  to  give  it  to  me,  and  I  did  not  like  to  ask  it,  though  I  told  him  you  regretted 
having  written  it.  I  was  not  at  first  agreeably  impressed  by  Mr.  Downing.  I  thought 
he  looked  and  spoke  like  a  man  who  had  a  big  opinion  of  himself  and  a  little  one  of 
everybody  else;  who  would  be  prone  to  look  at  people  and  things  through  rather 
dark  and  narrow  glasses;  but  my  opinion  improved  on  Sunday  morning  when  I  heard 
him  bring  forth  the  most  convincing  arguments,  and  pour  them  overwhelmingly  on  a 
"loyal"  Bandon  physician  who  "couldn't  see  what  in  the  world  the  people  were 
continually  complaining  about."  From  that  moment,  when  his  pale  grev  eye  dilated 
and  lighted  to  his  subject,  while  he  mourned  the  exodus  caused  by  the  Coercion  Bill, 
and  inveighed  against  the  short-sighted  policv  that  led  to  it, I  began  to  admire  and  like 
him,  and  was  really  sorrv  when  the  Bandon  Terminus  was  reached  and  our  roads 
separated.  The  doctor  proposed  to  go  look  for  a  horse  ard  car  to  bring  me  home, 
and  he  selected  an  exceedinglv  skittish,  wild  creature,  that  had  to  be  held  while  I 
got  on  the  car.  Such  a  drive  to  Clonakilt- !  The  dav  was  a  delightful  one ;  the  hedges 
are  all  in  their  earliest  summer  dress  of  snowy-blossomed  blackthorn,  tender-bud- 
ding hawthorn,  and  long  green  grasses  embosoming  little   purple  violets  and  pale 


C  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  343 

fragrant  primroses ;  meadows  thickly  starred  with  daisies ;  fields  in  even  brown 
furrows  and  corn-plats,  with  the  young  emerald  blades  shooting  half  a  hand  above 
the  ground;  then  the  singing  of  birds  and  the  gleaming  of  the  river,  that,  like  a 
thread  of  silver  in  the  sun,  winds  along  a  portion  of  the  road  homewards;  the  pure 
fresh  air,  the  clear,  mild  sky — all  made  up  a  living  picture  riot  to  be  forgotten.  T  en- 
joyed my  drive,  even  though  it  was  a  lonely  one,  and  I  very  much  enjoyed  the  wild- 
ness  of  the  horse,  whose  frequent  "  vagaries  "  m  de  it  a  clever  feat  for  anybody  to 
hold  a  seat  on  the  car  behind  him.  '  Fwas  Easter  Sunday,  and  on  arriving  at  the  old 
house  I  found  Papa  and  Tim  were  at  the  Island  keeping  the  day.  Mamma,  who  is, 
poor  woman,  but  a  shadow  of  her  former  self,  was  pleasantly  surprised  to  see  me. 
Will  had  gone  off  on  his  first  voyage  (he  has  taken  a  fancy  to  the  sea  and  lately 
studied  navigation).  My  sister  Isa  has  grown  to  be  a  young  woman ;  Alf  is  a  hardy 
little  man,  and  all  the  rest  have  grown  so  that  you  would  not  recognize  them.  James 
Maxwell  has  grown  as  tall  and  much  stouter  than  Chroum  was  when  you  last  saw 
him,  and  he  is  as  like  Denny,  your  eldest,  as  if  he  were  a  twin  brother  of  h  s.  This 
brings  me  to  the  subject  I  suppose  second  nearest  to  your  heart — the  fortunes  of  your 
boys.  Denny,  as  I  told  you  when  at  Chatham,  is  vry  like  yourself  in  appearance 
and  disposition,  and  I  am  inclined  to  hope  much  that  is  good  from  his  ripening  years. 
Jack  I  have  heard  nothing  of  lately,  further  than  that  he  is  still  studying  law  with 
Mr.  Lawless  and  begins  to  consider  himself  quite  a  young  man.  Jeremiah,  who  was 
always  very  quiet,  good-natured  and  not  over  bright,  is  showing  quite  an  unexpected 
aptitude  to  learn;  in  fact,  is  getting  the  name  of  "a  genius."  He  is  at  St.  jar- 
lath's  College,  Taum. 

I  was  at  Mullinahone  the  week  before  last  and  learnt  the  dumb  alphabet,  in  order 
to  talk  to  poor  Charles  Kickham.  He  is  apparently  in  the  enjoyment  of  pretty  good 
health,  though  he  complains  of  weakness  and  inability  to  pursue  as  arduously  as  he 
would  wish  his  literary  occupations.  He  is  engaged  at  present  on  a  serial  story,  en- 
titled "  Knocknagow;  or  the  Homes  of  Tipperary,"  for  the  New  York  Emerald.  I 
stayed  at  his  place  in  Mullinahone.  Some  of  the  Kossa  and  Kickham  Election  Com- 
mittee were  also  present  with  the  ladies  of  their  families,  and  we — sat  up  all  night 
and  went  to  bed  at  sunrise  !  Mr.  Kickham  monopolized  me  from  the  time  I  entered 
the  house  till  I  went  to  the  Lecture  Hall,  and  from  my  return  to  sunrise ;  you'd  have 
been  awfully  jealous  if  you  could  only  see  the  amount  of  attention  he  lavished  on 
me,  and  how  compl  iis;mtly  I  received  and  returned  it.  He  came  as  far  as  Carrick  with 
me  when  I  started  for  Waterford,  and — kissed  me  before  all  the  people  nt  the  station, 
coming  away!  Now,  don't  you  feel  very  much  aggrieved  ?  You  need  not,  my  dove — 
a  million  kisses  from  any  other  would  not  be  sweet  as  one  from  you.  (I  had  better 
qualify  that  assertion  by  saying  "I  think"  at  the  commencement  of  it,  for  I  have 
not  put  the  belief  to  test,  and  if  I  ever  do  it  may  not  stand  trial !) 

Saturday,  coming  from  Waterford,  I  was  for  awhile  alone  in  one  of  the  first-class 
carriages;  but  at  one  station,  a  gentleman  who  had  frequently  passed  where  I  sat, 
entered  and  took  a  seat.  I  was  buried  in  a  new  book,  and  did  not  feel  myself  called 
upon  to  notice  that  anybody  was  making  efforts  to  disengage  my  attention  from  it. 
At  last  I  was  interrupted  by  a  polite  interrogation  as  to  whether  I  was  not  Mrs.  O'D. 
Rossa ;  I  bowed  and  resumed  the  page.  Several  questions  followed,  to  each  of  which. 
I  answered  yes  or  no,  and  then  again  turned  to  my  book  At  last — I  forget  his  name, 
though  he  told  it  to  me — my  vis-a-vis  said  he  had  been  "  anxious  to  contribute  to  the 
fund  for  relief  of  the  prisoners;  lie  understood  J  was  collecting  for  them,  and" — 
here  he  produced  a  sovereign.  I  told  him  he  h?J.  been  misinformed  ;  I  was  not  trav- 
eling for  that  purpose,  but  simply  as  a  Readev,  but  I  would  give  him  the  address  of 
the  Treasurer  for  the  Relief  Committee.  "  Oh,  no,  he  would  prefer  I  should  receive 
it  and  send  it."  I  do  not  know  will  you  understand  what  sort  of  pang  it  was  that 
shot  through  vaj  heart !  wounded  pride  or  dignity  it  may  have  been,  for  I  knew  in 
my  soul  that  man  under-estimated  me,  and  that  I  was  being  put  through  the  indig- 
nity of  a  trial  which  I  should  aggravate  by  appearing  to  see  through,  so  I  quietly  and 
ste  idily  met  the  bold  gaze  of  the  intruder  (he  had  very  handsome  e3^es,too,Cariss!) ; 
assured  him  I  could  not  depart  from  my  usual  practice,  and  wrote  for  him  the  num- 
ber of  the  Committee  Rooms  and  the  Treasurer's  address.  I  thanked  him,  too.  for  t  e 
interest  he  expressed  in  your  fate  (though  I  didn't  believe  one  word  he  had  uttered), 
and  then  I  took  up  my  book  as  a  bar  to  all  further  conversation.  He  left  at  the  next 
station,  with  not  quite  so  jaunty  an  air  as  he  had  worn  on  his  entrance. 

You  were  anxious  I  should  write  everything  befalling  me  :  that  is  one  incident  of 
my  travels,  and  many  more  I  might  give  you  of  something  of  the  same  character,  but 
I  doubt  if  they  would  be  worth  recording;  unless,  indeed,  the  absence  of  news  would 
make  any  trifle  acceptable  to  a  prisoner,  especially  if  it  relate  to  one  he  loves. 

It  is  close  on  one  o'clock  a.  m.  There  was  a  fire  in  the  grate  some  time  since, 
but  I  hav^  just  discovered  'tis  dead  out ;  the  room  is  consequently  rather  chilly,  and  I 
shall  have  to  bid  you  "  good  night'Vor  "  good  morning  "—soon,  lest  I  retard,  by  ae« 


344  0 'Donovan  Bosstfs  Prison  Life. 

quiring  fresh  cold,  the  recovery  of  my  throat.  I  am  using  iodine  for  it,  and  some 
horrid  medicine  that  tastes  like  rank,  seaweed.  The  iodine  is  colorless,  an  improve- 
ment in  "  physics,"  which  I  have  the  honor  of  being  the  first  to  test.  A  very  clever 
Tipperary  physician,  hearing  me  express  a  reluctance  to  use  the  usual  iodine  because 
of  its  dyeing  properties  and  the  saffron  tint  'twould  give  my  neck,  set  his  wits  to 
work  to  devise  a  remedy  or  a  substitute ;  the  result  is,  he  has  compounded  an 
iodine  wash  equally  effective  and  perfectly  colorless  and  uncoloring.  I  have  had  to 
come  home  to  use  it  and  the  medicine,  and  they  are  really  doing  me  a  great  deal  of 
good. 

Well,  it  is  so  late,  I  must  tear  myself  away  from  my  talk  with  you.  Good  night, 
my  dove — no,  'tis  good  morning.  I  may  dream,  but  I  hope  I  shall  go  to  sleep  without 
thinking  of  you.  I  am  not  so  philosophic  as  not  to  be  made  unhappy  by  dwelling  on 
what  is  beyond  my  reach.  "  If  only  land  or  sea,"  the  old  song  says,  "had  parted  him 
and  me,  I  would  not  now  in  tea^s  be  wailing."  Land  and  sea,  and  stronger  than  both 
in  their  disuniting  properties — prison  walls — arise  between  us.  It  must  seem  strange 
and  exasperating  to  you,  who  always  managed  to  have  your  own  way  in  everything, 
that  the  force  oi  your  will,  and  all  its  concentration  of  power,  are  powerless  to  level 
the  walls  of  Chatham,  or  to  bring  you  one  step  closer  to  any  object  you  desire.  It 
is — for  the  time — disheartening  to  me,  that  the  object  for  which  I  strained  all  my 
powers  is  still  at  such  an  aggravating  distance  from  me.  Possibly  we  are  blind  to 
what  is  best  for  us.  lam  quite  certain,  though,  that  however  beneficial  they  may 
prove  to  the  country  and  the  world  at  large,  viewed  in  a  personal  light  my  trials  are 
not  conducive  to  my  own  proper  salvation.    I  can't  grow  contented. 

Oh!  I'll  have  to  wind  up  now;  so  good-bye,  and  a  hundred  kisses,  from  your 
affectionate  wife,  MARY  J.  O'D.  ROSSA. 

Thursday,  21st  April. 

This  morning  the  morning  papers  bring  the  intelligence  of  the  sudden  death  of 
George  Henry  Moore.  Great  public  regret  is  felt  and  expressed  for  his  untimely  end, 
and  I  am  saddened  very  much  to  think  that  Ireland  and  the  prisoners  have  lost  so 
faithful  a  friend  and  so  good  an  advocate  in  the  British  Parliament.  Of  the  few  who 
are  generous  enough  to  see  the  interest  of  the  country  before  their  own,  or  too  inde- 
pendent to  sell  their  sense  of  right,  Mr.  Moore  was  the  most  generous  and  the  most 
fearless.  It  does  seem  as  if  we  are  doomed,  and  Heaven  and  the  dark  powers  have 
formed  a  league  against  the  welfare  of  this  unfortunate  land. 

I  do  not  know  but  I  may  be  intringing  on  my  privilege  by  writing  anything  that 
could  be  construed  into  political  news;  however,  as  you  were  before  this  allowed  to 
hear  the  news  of  your  election  for  Tipperary,  you  may  be  allowed  now  to  hear  the 
reason  you  were  not  re-nominated,  as  I  was  informed  by  the  Election  Committee.  It 
was  credibly  stated  that  the  Sheriff  would  not  accept  your  name  again,  taking,  it 
was  supposed,  his  cue  from  the  action  of  Parliament.  To  prevent  Mr.  Heron's  re- 
turn Kickham  was  at  once  nominated,  and  his  name  could  not  be  refused.  Unfortu- 
nately, Tipperary  was  so  sanguine  of  success  again  it  did  not  put  out  its  lull  force  in 
the  second  election,  and  Mr.  Heron,  it  is  said,  has  fraudulently  secured  a  seat  in  the 
House. 

When  I  read  in  Cashel  a  short  time  ago,  about  thirty  young  men,  with  the  Tip- 
perary Band,  came  all  the  way  by  car  to  be  present  and  lend  me  their  assistance.  It 
caused  quite  a  commotion  in  the  "  City  of  the  Kings."  The  resident  magistrate, 
who,  it  appears,  is  an  excessively  timorous  man,  had  the  constabulary  out  in  full 
force.  "  Like  an  eagle  in  a  dove-cot,  he — fluttered  the  Volges  in  Corioli!"  might  be 
applied  to  the  advent  of  your  little  wife,  backed  by  the  Tipperary  Band,  in  Cashel.  I 
enjoyed  immensely  the  trepidation  of  the  local  authorities  and  the  immense  enthu- 
siasm of  the  people.  The  priests  are  somewhat  unfavorable  to  me — don't  know  why ; 
but  in  Cashel  they  absolutely  went  round  amongst  their  lady  parishioners  to  prevent 
their  attendance.  I  had  not  a  paying  audience  in  Cashel,  for  it  seems  the  greater 
number  of  voters  for  you  were  found  there,  and  all  these  told  the  door-keeper  they 
had  a  right  to  free  tickets.  S  me  of  the  scenes  on  the  lobby  were  most  amusing. 
0''e  mountaineer,  with  the  remnant  of  a  black  eye,  pointed  to  it  as  a  corroborative 
proof  of  his  assertion  that  he  had  fought  for  you  ;  and  another  showed  a.  dilapidated 
coat-skirt,  made  ragged  in  the  same  cause.  Of  cou>  se  :  11  these  claimants  got  p>  ss- 
poits.  During  th^  interim,  you  should  have  heard  the  house  singing  songs  in  your 
praise!  ev^ry  verse  ending  with  an  assertion  that  they'll  never  be  satisfied  till  their 
"Hero"  is  released  to  them.  Several  others  also,  in  tribute  to  you,  were  sung  by 
your  "  co'stitue  "ts"  aid  chorused  by  the  whole  house,  standing  'Twas  the 
strangest,  the  wildest,  and  vet  most  orderly  meeting  of  a  mass  of  enthusiasts  that  I 
hav«  ever  witnessed.  On  Sunday  I  went  to  last  Mass,  and  found,  when  'twas  over, 
the  congregation  were  waiting  to  give  me  an  ovation  on  my  return  to  the  hotel. 
.(By  the  way,  that  hotel  is  kept  by  a  niece  of  Col.  Doheny's.)     The  gallery  stairs  in 


O  }  Donovan  RoascCs  Prison  Life.  345 

the  chapel  were  lined  with  people,  and  as  I  stood  on  the  first  landing  and  looked  over 
the  eager  heads  of  a  double  line  of  people  down  the  steps,  spreading  out  into  the 
sunny,  tree-shadowed  chapel  yard,  filling  it  densely,  then  swelling  in  still  stronger 
numbers  outside  the  gate  and  down  and  up  the  ancient  street,  my  heart  swelled  to 
my  throat  with  a  feeling  that  was  not  vanity  or  mere  personal  gratification.  While  I 
paused,  and  felt  my  eyes  fill  with  tears  of  national  pride  and  gratitude,  a  tremendous 
cheer  rang  up  within  and  without  the  sacred  building ;  it  was  echoed  and  re-echoed 
down  the  street,  and,  as  I  passed  with  much  (motion  down  the  steps  and  out  into  the 
chapel-yard  and  street,  every  head  was  uncovered ;  the  people  fell  back  to  give  me 
a  passage,  and,  while,  those  near  enough  seized  my  bands  and  fervently  kissed  and 
pressed  them,  the  whole  mass  of  my  c  ^untry-pe-ple  there  murmured  a  blessing  and 
a  hope  for  tbe  future  of  Ireland,  of  you  and  of  me.  I  could  not  tell  you  how  I  was 
affected.  The  people  cheered  me  to  the  hotel,  and  remained  outside  a  short  time  in 
groups  and  knots,  talking.  Afterwards  I  went  to  see  the  Abbey  and  Cormac's  Castl9 
on  the  Rock,  and  another  surprise  awaited  me  there.  The  young  men  of  the  town 
had  been  watching  for  my  visit,  and  as  the  guide  unlocked  the  massive  gateway  of 
the  castle,  the  voice  of  a  multitude  of  people  met  ma  from  within,  crying,  "  Welcome 
to  the  Rock  of  Cashel!"  and  immediately  an  amateur  band,  composed  of  con- 
certinas, cornopeans  and  accordeons,  struck  up  "God  save  Ireland."  'Twas  really 
a  scene  you  might  imagine  taken  from  a  fairy  story.  We  stood  in  a  grass-grown 
court-yard,  very  extensive,  partially  surrounded  by  the  castle  battlements  and  the  ivied 
walls  of  King  Cormac's  Chapel.  Through  pointed  archways  and  deep  mullioned 
windows  at  one  side,  and  over  the  ruined  fosse  and  embankments  at  the  other,  the 
beautiful,  grassy  pasture  land  swelled  and  opened  under  the  sun,  and  glimpses  of 
silver  rivers  and  rivulets  met  our  admiring  eyes;  up  the  winding  stairs  of  the 
castle  to  the  very  top  we  went,  and  up  there  the  cheering  from 
below  again  greeted  my  appearance.  You  have  been  at  Cashel,  I  suppose, 
and  looked  from  King  Cormac's  tower  over  the  seven  fair  counties  that  lift 
their  faces  round.  Then  I  need  not  describe  them.  On  leaving  the  chapel  of  the 
rock,  the  guide  indulging  in  a  sudden  fit  of  sympathetic  romance  and  enthusiasm  with 
the  people,  made  me  stand  on  an  elevated  slab  at  the  end  of  the  nave,  and  there  im- 
pressively told  me  that  I  stood  on  the  very  spot  on  which  King  Cormac  was  solemnly 
crowned.  I  stopped  off  at  once  rather  confused,  but  not  before  the  delighted  foilow- 
ers  had  made  the  chapel  ring  again  and  again  with  their  approving  shouts.  I  believe 
with  all  their  pretended  republicanism  of  feeling,  they'd  have  crowned  me  there  and 
then  as  really  as  they  crowned  me  in  their  hearts,  if  ihey  only  had  the  power. 

I  am  writing,  I  believe,  in  a  more  egotistical  strain  than  I  ever  indulged  in  before ; 
but  I  must  do  so  in  order  to  give  you  the  faintest  idea  of  the  romantic  devotion  of  the 
people.  It  is  also  gratifying  to  me,  inasmuch  as  it  is  proof  to  me  of  the  advanced 
spirit  of  the  people.  Liberty  is  the  goddess  they  adore  ;  you  are  her  devoted  martyr ; 
me  they  take  as  a  personification  of  the  cause  you  suffer  for.  They  invest  me  with 
all  the  virtues  and  brilliancies  their  affectionate  hearts  can  devise ;  they  put  me 
clothed  in  these  garments  of  their  own  weaving  on  a  pedestal,  and  there  they  bow 
down  voluntarily  and  pay  tribute  to  their  beloved  goddess  through  me.  It  is  an 
insecure  height  to  have  reached,  and  I  often  tremble  lest  the  adulous  breath  of  the 
people  come  sometime  to  my  dizzy  head  in  gusts  too  strong  for  my  safety,  that  like 
an  unfastened  statue  on  a  facade,  I  shall  be  blown  down  some  day  by  a  strong  wind  or 
an  adverse  wind.  "  Hope  and  pray,"  say  the  chaplains.  I  don't  pray  a  great  deal.  I 
think  you  have  more  opportunities  for  praying  and  you  can  do  both  our  shares,  while 
I  will  do  all  the  hoping  for  you.  Perhaps,  though,  that  prayer  would  be  a  sort  of 
ballast  to  the  barque  that  hope  would  inordinately  lighten.  There  is  at  least  a  little 
reason  in  the  idea,  and  I  ought  to  put  it  in  practice. 

Here  have  I  written  forty-four  pages,  and  I  really  seem  to  have  told  yon  nothing, 
and  to  be  only  now  in  condition  to  begin.  I  am  not  usually  so  prosy,  for  I  believe  in 
business-like  letters.  I  am  afraid,  too,  the  Directors  will  be  alarmed  at  the  length  of 
this  and  procrastinate  the  reading  of  it  as  long  as  I  have  done  the  writing.  I  hope 
with  all  my  heart  they  won't  detain  it  from  you,  and  I  hope  you  will  forgive  the  de- 
lay I  made  in  despatching  it.  It  does  seem  cruel  to  keep  you  in  suspense,  for  of 
course  you  have  no  way  of  getting  any  outside  information.  But  one  is  not  apt  to 
remember  that  always.  The  whole  family  send  love  to  you,  and  with  wishes  for 
your  health  and  resignation,  I  remain,  my  dear  Rossa,  ever  your  affectionate  wife, 

MARY  J.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

The  Fenian  factions  in  America  had  dragged  my  wife  into  their 
contentions.  The  "  Belmont  fund  "  was  claimed  by  John  O'Mahony, 
and  she  was  urged  hy  the  opposing  faction,  and  strongly  advised  by 


34:6  0** Donovan  Rosso)  s  Prison  Life. 

a  lawyer  cousin  of  mine,  to  put  in  a  claim  on  my  behalf  for  some 
of  it. 

It  was  painful  to  me  to  learn  this,  but  I  was  quite  powerless  to 
prevent  it.  There  was  the  usual  amount  of  newspaper  scandal  in 
connection  with  the  affair,  and  it  is  painful  even  now  to  read  in  the 
newspapers  of  the  time  such  passages  as  the  following  regarding 
me: 

"He  (Rossa)  lent  £300,  at  10  per  cent,  interest,  for  the  purpose 
of  sustaining  the  paper.  That  loan,  however,  was  duly  paid  to 
htm,  with  interest,  out  of  the  proceeds  of  the  Chicago  Fair.  This 
I  hive  learned  from  Mr.  James  Stephens  and  others,  who  had  per- 
sonal knowledge  of  the  fact." 

The  writer  of  this  took  the  side  of  John  O'Mahony,  and  under- 
took to  prove  I  had  no  claim  whatever  on  the  fund,  and  there 
he  was  right ;  but  when  he  says  I  was  to  get  or  got  ten  per 
cent,  interest  or  any  interest  for  any  money  I  lent  the  Irish  People, 
or  that  I  was  paid  principal  and  interest  out  of  the  proceeds  of  the 
Chicago  Fair,  he  says  more  than  is  known  to  me,  or  known  to  James 
Stephens,  or  known  to  any  others  "  who  had  personal  knowledge  of 
the  fact."  As  the  man  who  wrote  this  is  dead,  I  would  not  refer  to 
it  but  that  I  prize  my  Irish  reputation  somewhat,  and  to  find  my 
name  mentioned  in  connection  with  "10  per  cent.  "  on  the  advance 
of  a  trifle  of  money  to  forward  the  cause  is  as  painful  to  me  as  it  is 
foreign  and  false  to  my  character.  And  yet  the  writer  of  the  para- 
graph— James  Cody,  of  Callan — was  as  truthful,  as  true,  and  as  self- 
sacrificing  a  worker  in  Ireland  as  the  movement  produced.  It  only 
shows  what  unjust  things  are  possible  to  be  said  when  friends  fall 
out. 

The  next  letter  in  order  is  that  of  my  lawyer  friend,  Timothy  F. 
Donovan.  His  arguments  to  secure  my  co-operation  or  "silence" 
did  not  lack  the  necessary  force,  but  I  doubt  that  I  wouldn't  have 
spoiled  his  case  had  I  the  liberty  of  speech. 

202  B'way,  Sept.  3, 1869. 

My  Dear  Cousin:  By  my  suggestion  your  wife  a  short  time  ago  commenced 
legal  proceedings  to  obtain  out  of  a  fund  now  in  the  custody  of  our  Courts  the 
amount  due  you  for  yo  it  outlay  ar.d  services  expended  on  the  Irish  People  newspaper. 
The  proceeds  of  the  suit  are  to  be  applied  to  the  education  of  your  children,  under 
the  directory  of  a  guardian,  to  be  appointed  by  the  Court.  I  may  here  state  that 
your  best  friends  in  this  city  have  warmly  advised  this  proceeeding,  and  under  their 
direction  the  matter  is  being  pushed.  The  suit  would  never  have  been  brought,  were 
it  not  that  its  successful  termination  is  assured  beyond  a  doubt.  Buta  clique,  headed 
by  O'Mahony,  are  striving  to  obtain  it  for  division  among  themselves.  He  has  made 
his  newspaper  here  the  vehicle  of  a  most  villainous  attack  on  your  wife,  with  intent 
to  break  her  down  in  her  readings  before  the  public — in  fact,  to  steal  away  her  bread, 
because  she  has  foiled  him,  and  stopped  the  money  from  going  into  his  pocket.  It  is 
the  fixed  determination  to  apportion  this  fund  to  the  children  of  the  prisoners  for 
their  education  and  nourishment,  and  for  that  purpose  your  friends  have  put  in  a 
claim  for  your  children  to  obtain  your  quantum.  It  is  necessary,  therefore,  that  you 
keep  aloof  in  this  matter.  Do  not  give  a  negative  or  an  affirmative  expression  either 
way,  relative  to  the  case — and  this  becomes  the  more  important,  as  your  wife's  success 
in  her  readings  may  in  a  great  measure  depend  upon  her  triumph  in  that  case. 


(J Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  347 

Therefore,  keep  up  a  steady  silence  about  it;  and  please  to  return  to  me  an  authori- 
ty to  comnence  in  your  name  all  suits  I  may  deem  necessary  to  recover  for  your 
children  your  worldly  goods— a  mere  expression  to  that  effect  will  suffice.  All  the 
folks  deploring  your  bad  fate,  and  hoping  to  see  you  free  once  more,  send  their  love 
to  you.  Yours,  most  truly, 

T.  F.  DONOVAN. 
To  J.  0 'Donovan  Ross  a. 

My  Love:  I  send  you  back  this  ugly  letter  of  mv  cousin's.  There  is  the  lawyer 
on  the  face  of  it.  How  you  engaged  in  this  Belmont-O'Mahony  lawsuit,  influ- 
fluenced  by  any  one  who  could  use  such  contemptible  reasons  to  influence  me,  is 
what  I  cannot  understand.  If  this  is  the  only  thing  you  regret  since  we  parted,  I  sup- 
pose I  may  pass  it  over.  But  even  though  it  may  tend  to  make  you  self-opinionated, 
let  it  be  a  caution  to  you  to  beware  of  acting  again  on  the  advice  of  others  against 
your  own  inclination.  If  you  are  much  led  by  others,  it  is  ten  to  one  but  you  will  be 
led  astray. 

As  to  your  losing  the  lesson  of  obedience,  in  view  of  our  re-union,  I  have  not  yet 
lost  all  confidence  in  my  own  powers  of  making  you  unlearn  if  you  be  stubborn.  Yes 
—while  you  are  left  to  your  own  resources  for  support,  trust  yourself  alone. 

You  say  that  in  America  the  party  who  befriended  vou  most,  of  the  factions, 
was  the  Roberts  party.  I  must  tell  you  Mr.  Roberts  did  "not  make  the  most  favor- 
able impression  upon  me.  I  heard  him  say  that  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Fenianism  if  he  knew  there  were  so  many  difficulties  to  overcome.  He  tendered  his 
resignation  then  and  there.  The  Councif  pressed  him,  begged  him  to  hold  on,  and  it 
has  often  surprised  me  since  to  hear  with  what  tenacity  he  has  held  on  through  such 
a  sea  of  difficulties. 

It  is  not  often  that  tears  start  to  my  eyes,  but  I  felt  the  woman  in  me  at  witness- 
ing this  scene.  I  said  to  myself,  "This  man  will  never  do."  Let  it  be  acting,  or 
what  it  be,  he  aroused  a  prejudice  in  my  mind,  and  if  I  had  heard  any  time  since, 
that  he  withdrew  from  Irish  politics  I  would  have  more  confidence  in  him. 

You  could  have  sent  me  your  correspondence  with  Gladstone.  Your  letter  did 
not  contain  one  word  to  show  me  that  you  received  the  one  I  wrote  en  regie  (I  sent 
this  to  her  "surreptitiously")  three  days  after  your  visit.  You  said  you  spent  an 
evening  at  Mr.  Moore's,  in  London.  I  don't  know  did  he  remember  that  it  was  your 
husband  he  met  at  Moore  Hall,  on  one  occasion.  I  liked  him  immensely  well,  and 
regret  his  death  much.  This  spinal  affection  is  troubling  me.  If  I  leave  you  entirely- 
then, 

"A  place  in  your  memory,  dearest." 

Yours,  ROSSA. 

I  am  publishing  the  last  letter  under  protest  from  my  wife.  She 
says  there  is  no  man  in  America  who  acted  more  friendly  or  more 
honorably  towards  her  than  William  R.  Roberts,  and  she  grumbles 
at  my  expressing  a  weak  thought  about  him  at  any  time.  But  I 
am  writing  my  prison  life,  and  her  likings  or  dislikings  must  not 
alter  the  record  of  anything  I  wrote  or  did.  When  Fenians  and 
all  my  political  connec+ions  seemed  to  care  little  whether  mv 
wife  had  a  friend  or  a  home  in  the  City  of  New  York,  she  found 
both  with  old-country  neighbors  of  ours,  Maurice  and  Kate 
Spillane. 

Anxiety  of  mind  and  depression  of  spirits  brought  on  an  illness 
that  rendered  her  unable  to  write,  and  her  medical  adviser  said  she 
should  have  rest  and  country  air  to  save  her  life.  Mrs,  Spill  ,ne 
was  making  preparations  to  afford  her  these,  when  Mr.  Roberts 
learning  the  circumstances,  sent  his  wife  and  his  carriao-e  for  her 
and  took  her  to  his  house  on  the  Bloomingdale  road,  where  she 
was  treated  for  a  few  months  with  the  greatest  attention  and  kind- 
ness. This  is  an  obligation  that  I  have  no  way  of  requiting  and 
for  which  I  must  ever  feel  indebted ;  but  as  most  of  my  indebted- 


348  C  Donovan  Rosses  Prison  Life. 

ness  comes  from  trying  to  serve  Ireland,  I  cannot  allow  any  of  it 
to  suppress  a  thought  that  was  written  when  thinking  of  Ireland's  in- 
terests. It  is  in  the  dark  days  of  a  nation's  distress  that  the  truest 
of  her  sons  cling  closest  to  her,  and  those  who  are  ashamed  to  as- 
sociate their  names  with  her  fallen  fortunes,  or  who  are  scared  away 
by  dangers  and  difficulties  from  giving  their  assistance,  are  not  the 
men  fitted  to  raise  her  to  a  position  of  national  independence. 

In  the  Summer  of  1870  the  Governor  of  the  prison  informed  us 
that  a  Parliamentary  Commission  was  appointed  to  inquire  into  our 
treatment,  and  we  could  have  the  help  of  counsel  to  prepare 
our  case.  We  immediately  communicated  with  our  friends,  and 
when  we  learned  the  help  of  counsel  was  only  a  thing  of  nothing, 
that  the  Commission  was  to  be  a  secret  one,  and  no  counsel  allowed 
to  appear,  my  companions  pronounced  the  inquiry  a  sham  and  de- 
cided to  take  no  part  in  it.  I  decided  on  taking  a  contrary  course, 
and  made  up  my  mind  to  give  evidence.  My  case  was  somewhat 
different  from  that  of  the  others.  I  knew  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  matters  that  affected  me  were  some  of  the  principal  questions  in 
dispute,  and  I  had  such  confidence  in  my  ability  to  prove  the  truth 
of  what  the  Secretary  of  State  said  was  false  that  I  was  sure  I  could 
stick  the  lies  down  their  throat  if  I  got  any  fair  play. 

If  I  followed  the  example  of  the  others  and  refused  to  give  evi- 
dence, it  would  be  a  victory  for  the  Government,  for  they  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  have  it  in  their  power  to  say  that  the  reason  I  re- 
fused to  go  on  with  my  case  was  because  I  was  unable  to  substan- 
tiate my  allegations. 

I  came  to  the  conclusion  to  employ  my  wife  as  counsel.  The 
authorities  consented  to  allow  her  to  consult  with  me;  but  they 
never  gave  her  the  permission  to  come  till  the  day  the  Commission 
opened,  though  she  came  to  London  and  remained  there  a  fortnight 
appealing  for  the  visiting  order.  When  she  returned  to  Clonakilty 
the  visiting  order  followed  her  there,  and  then  some  advisers  put  it 
into  her  head  that  it  was  wrong  for  me  to  take  a  different  course 
from  the  other  prisoners,  and  she  grumbled  about  coming. 

The  following  letters  passed  between  us  before  she  came,  and 
then  during  the  visiting  hours  for  six  or  seven  days,  between  the 
several  sittings  of  the  Commission,  we  were  put  into  a  glass-room 
for  consultation,  with  an  officer  looking  on  outside  the  glass  door — j 
for  fear  we  should  commit  suicide  : 

Strand  House,  Clonakilty,  July  7th,  1870. 

My  Bear  Rossa:  The  printed  letters,  which  I  enclose  you,  will,  if  you  are  per- 
mitted to  read  them,  explain  why  I  am  not  present  at  Chatham.  I  can  easily  see 
how  your  disbelief  in  the  honesty  of  the  Inquiry,  combined  with  your  anxiety  to 
talk  unreservedly  with  me,  have  induced  you  to  grasp  at  the  offer  of  interviews 
held  out  to  you  so  late,  and  to  write  wishing  me  to  return.  I  have  not  done  so;  I 
will  not  do  so,  and — as  Mr.  Bult  remarked — "  wash  my  hands  of  the  Commission*'  and 
ail  the  false  privileges  the  Commission  can  grant. 

Even  while  I  can  understand  another  man  putting  aside  all  considerations  but  the 
satisfaction  of  meeting  his  wife,  I  cannot  understand  it  in  you,  who  have,  since  I  first 
knew  you,  held  public  interest  far  in  advance  of  mine  or  your  own  gratification.  To  tak« 


O1  Donovan  fossa's  Prison  Life.  349 

advantage  of  this  permission  "  to  assist  you  in  preparing  your  statement  for  the 
Commission  of  Inquiry,"  w^en  the  inquiry  was  already  about  to  be  inaugurated 
at  Chatham— to  take  advantage  of  it  merely  for  the  satisfaction  of  an  ordinary  inter- 
view, when  we  know  that  the  fact  would  be  brought  against  us  to  prove  that  the 
Government  "  gave  fair  means  of  preparation,  which  were  availed  of,  and  in  their 
barrenness  of  corroborative  result  to  the  prisoner's  complaints,  made  another  proof  of 
the  innocence  of  the  Government!"— this  I  would  look  upon  as  selling  one's  right, 
like  Esau,  for  a  mess  of  pottage— as  putting  one's  character  in  pawn  for  an  equivocal 
reward. 

Do  not  fear  for  me.  To  endure  has  become  second  nature  to  me.  I  remember 
at  school  my  class-mistress  sometimes  gravely  rebuked  me  for  the  fact  that  if  I  were 
notheading  her  list,  I  would  surely  be  found  carelessly  at  the  very  bottom.  This  has  fol- 
lowed me  still.  I  want  no  compromises,  no  mediums.  "  All  or  nothing ;"  "Saint  or 
sinner;"  "  Caesar  or  nobody,"  have  grown  instinctively  to  be  my  watchwords.  So  I 
will  have  all  my  husband  or  none  of  him,  and  I  will  have  all  its  promises  from  the 
crown  or  none  of  them ;  and  as  I  cannot  have  the  peaceful  wedded  life  I  hoped  for 
once,  why  I  can  make  up  my  mind  to  lead  a  strong  single  one.  Don't,  therefore, 
abate  or  alter,  after  so  long  endurance,  any  of  your  principles,  beliefs  or  inspirations 
through  compassion  for  me.  I  had  asked  Mr.  Butt  to  take  my  order  for  interviews 
with  you,  if  the  orders  were  granted  in  reasonable  time.  They  were  not  granted  in 
reasonable  time,  and  I  would  not  insult  him  by  offering  it  on  Monday. 

It  is  impossible  for  me,  my  dear  husband,  to  enter  into  private  or  particular 
family  matters,  as  you  would  wish,  in  my  letters  to  you.  I  can  but  tell  you  what  1 
would  permit  my  greatest  foes  to  know,  lest  at  some  time  I  find  the  Government 
making  use  of  my  information  to  you  against  you  or  myself.  Besides,  you  cannot 
help  me  in  anything.  If  I  wish  your  presence  you  cannot  come  to  me;  if  I  wish 
your  advice,  before  you  could  give  it  me  the  need  for  it  would  have  passed  away. 
We  are  not'  one,  but  two  very  distinct  people,  while  English  law  stands  between 
us,  and  we  might  as  well  recognize  the  fact,  submit  to  it,  and  be  content  with  our 
position  until  Providence  will  send  a  full  and  perfect  change.  Oceans  could  not  so 
effectually  divide  us  as  your  prison  discipline,  nor  even  could  death  so  completely 
cut  off  communication,  for  in  death  the  spirit  is  surely  cognizant  of  the  acts  and 
prayers  and  wishes  of  those  it  loves.  I  have  no  doubt  the  Government  will  presently 
make  important  concessions,  not  only  in  favor  of  the  prisoners  but  of  the  country  for 
which  thev  suffer.  I  can  wait  for  these  concessions,  which  must  come,  and  that  with^ 
out  my  snatching  at  the  small  bait,  in  offering  which  the  Goverment  hopes  to  get  the 
prisoners'  friends  to  hold  the  whitewash  pail  while  it  (the  Government)  whitens  its 
own  dark  acts. 

My  letter  must  needs  be  a  short  one  to-day,  as  I  wish  to  send  it  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible.  I  received  yours  from  London  yesterday.  When  I  think  of  all  the 
indignities  I  was  put  through  in  the  capital  of  Great  Britain,  by  British  officials,  1 
feel  as  if  I  could  curse  like  a  dragoon— only  I'm  trying  to  be  a  saint.  "  Forgive  y  out 
enemies,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  <mdpray  for  all  that  persecute  and  calum- 
niate you!"  Truly  a  hard  rule  to  follow,  yet  none  of  us  should  cavil  at  it,  for, 
knowingly  or  unknowingly,  we  have  wronged,  hated,  persecuted  and  calumniated 
some  other  members  of  the  human  family,  and  we  would  gladly  see  those  we  have 
wronged,  &c,  ready  to  love,  do  good  and  pray  for  us,  in  return  for  our  evil. 

I  enclose  a  likeness  I  had  taken  in  London,  in  one  of  my  stage  dresses  ;  one  of 
Babe's  also.  I  have  been  contributing  every  week  to  the  Irishman,  but  can't  put 
my  hand  on  any  of  the  verses  this  moment.  I  may  find  them  before  post  hour. 
Meantime,  with  love  from  all  at  home  to  you,  and  kindest  regards  and  good  wishes  to 
General  Halpin,  to  McClure  and  all  your  fellow-prisoners, 

I  remain,  my  dear  Rossa,  your  affectionate  wife, 

MARY  J.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

P.  S.— I  could  not  get,  a  copy  of  Messrs.  Knox  and  Pollock's  Report.  Mr.  Pigott 
hasn't  it,  and  I  don't  know  who  has,  but  Mr.  Butt  thinks  the  Commissioners  had,  or 
could  get  it. 

I  found  some  poems:  "Ross  Carberry;"  "My  Mother's  Grave;"  "A  Protest;" 
"Prayer  of  Manasses,"  and  "Shall  We  Tell  Him  So,  My  Boy?"  I  enclose  them  for 
you.  Babe's  likeness  is  miserable  ;  he  wouldn't  be  quiet,  and  was  awfully  frightened 
at  being  put  in  the  middle  of  the  gallery  alone.  Thought  he  was  about  to  be  shot  at 
through  the  machine,  I  believe. 

Chatham  Prison,  Saturday,  5  P.  M.,  July  9, 1870. 

My  Dear  Wife:  I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  the  7th.    It  is  some  ease  of 

mind  to  me  to  hear  from  you,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  hear  that  you  are  so  strong. 

Well,  I  did  surely  anticipate  the  pleasure  of  having  a  history  of  your  life  from  you, 

besides  any  information  you  could  give  me  as  to  the  course  I  would  adopt  at  this 


350  O*  Donovan  Eossa's  Prison  Life. 

inquiry.  But  I  must  tell  you  that,  independent  of  any  advice  you  or  any  one  els© 
could  give  me,  I  determined  to  pursue  a  certain  course,  and  though  your  letter  may 
lead  me  to  think  that  you  would  disapprove  of  it,  still  I  will  not  alter  my  mind.  That 
course  is  to  give  evidence  before  the  Commission,  if  they  see  there  is  anything  rele- 
vant to  their  inquiry  contained  in  a  part  statement  which  I  laid  before  them  on  Mon- 
day, the  4th.  I  did  not  make  this  statement  as  a  complaint.  I  only  stated  simply  mat- 
ters that  I  experienced  by  virtue  of  prison  discipline,  and  left  it  to  them  to  examine 
me  or  not  as  to  the  truth  of  what  I  stated. 

I  was  led  to  adopt  this  course  by  thinking  that  the  most  of  what  I  stated  to  them 
were  matters  that  were,  one  way  or  another,  canvassed  and  contradicted  in  the 
world,  and  whatever  your  opinion  or  my  opinion  of  the  Commission  be,  I  concluded 
that  I  would  not  leave  it  in  the  gentlemen's  power  to  say  that  my  refusal  to  give 
evidence  was  proof  that  these  statements  could  not  be  substantiated. 

After  a  conversation  with  the  gentlemen,  and  my  expressing  a  willingness  to  be 
examined  if  they  desired,  the  decision  was :  that  they  would  take  the  paper  I  gave 
them  as  a  part  statement ;  that  they  would  not  go  into  my  examination  until  they 
would  come  again  on  Tuesday,  the  19th  ;  that  every  day  till  then  I  could  have  my 
wife's  assistance  in  preparing  my  case  (that  is  if  my  wife  came) ,  and  that  then  I  could 
give  them  the  rest  of  my  statement  if  I  wrote  any  more.  Here  is  a  paragraph  of 
your  letter:  "  Even  while  I  could  understand  another  man  putting  aside  all  considera- 
tions but  the  satisfaction  of  meeting  his  wife,  I  cannot  understand  it  in  you,  who  have, 
since  I  first  knew  you,  held  public  interest  far  in  advance  of  mine  or  your  own  grati- 
fication, to  take  advantage  of  this  permission  to  assist  you  in  preparing  your  state- 
ment for  the  Commission  of  Inquiry,"  when  the  inquiry  was  already  about  to  be 
inaugurated  at  Chatham — to  take  advantage  of  it  merely  for  the  satisfaction  of  an 
ordinary  interview,  &c,  &c.  This  I  would  look  upon  as  selling  one's  right,  like  Esau, 
for  a  mess  of  pottage,  or  as  putting  one's  character  in  pawn  for  an  equivocal  reward." 
In  your  mind,  as  seen  in  these  lines,  you  overvalue  me  and  you  undervalue  me. 
Where  you  think  too  highly  of  me  is  where  you  think  I  have  made  much  sacrifice  of 
my  happiness,  convenience,  or  gratification  for  "  public  interest,"  and  where  you  think 
too  little  of  me  is  where  you  think  that  I  would  now  put  aside  all  considerations  for 
the  satisfaction  of  meeting  my  wife — where  you  think  that  /  think  so  little  of  public 
interest  as  to  sacrifice  it  merely  for  the  satisfaction  of  an  ordinary  interview. 

Well,  I  am  not  so  much  in  alarm  as  you  are  in  these  matters.  I  will  pursue  the 
course  I  have  indicated,  if  the  authorities  do  what  they  have  stated  they  will  do,  and 
I  have  no  fears  as  to  doing  wrong  or  as  to  "  injuring  the  public  interests." 

I  cannot  see,  suppose  nothing  else  but  the  "public  interest"  is  concerned,  how  a 
history  of  my  prison  lftfe  to  you  would  not  counterbalance  the  advantage  the  Govern- 
ment would  derive  b/~  saying  that  I  had  3Tour  assistance  in  preparing  my  case.  How- 
ever, ye  outside  kno,/  the  world  and  ye  must  judge.  Before  I  knew  the  offer  would 
be  made  us  of  having  an  interview  with  our  friends,  I  had  applied  for  a  private  visit 
from  you,  and  it  was  refused.  I  then  applied  for  an  ordinary  visit,  and  it  was  granted, 
and  now  that  I  can  have  a  private  visit  the  public  interest  will  not  permit  you  to  avail 
of  it.    This  is  rather  hard. 

It  puts  me  in  a  very  peculiar  position,  for  if  you  know  my  mind,  you  know  that 
I  cannot  at  any  future  time,  with  any  face,  under  these  circumstances,  go  before  a 
Director  and  ask  him  for  a  public  or  a  private  visit  from  you.  He  might  say  to  me, 
"  How  do  you  know  that  your  wife  wants  to  see  you? " 

I  am  really  pleased,  Mollis,  that  you  are  so  strong — that  that  sickness  of  expec- 
tation and  "  hope  deferred  "  is  left  you,  and  that  you  have  made  up  your  mind  for  the 
worst,  for  it  is  only  thus  that  you  can  act  for  the  best. 

I  was  in  much  suspense  till  I  got  your  letter — but  it  is  not  a  letter — it  is  only  a 
note,  and,  therefore,  by  post  return,  write  a  long  letter;  and  as  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  write  under  a  misapprehension  of  the  time  for  visiting  me  being  past,  and  seem 
to  be  unaware  that  there  is  over  a  week  yet,  I  would  wish  you  to  be  final  on  this 
point,  and  it  would  be  well  that  you  would,  by  the  car-driver,  send  a  telegraph  to 
Bandon  for  the  Governor  of  the  prison,  saying  whether  you  will  come  or  no. 

As  I  allude  to  this  I  will  expect  you  to  do  it,  and  then  I  will  make  up  my  mind. 
I  did  not  get  the  printed  letters  nor  the  poems,  nor  the  photographs.    I  must,  I 
suppose,  wait  till  I  can  see  Mr.  Fagan. 

When  did  you  go  home  ?    Why  did  you  not  tell  me  ?    Did  you  go  by  Dublin  ? 
I  have  permission  to  write,  while  the  Commission  sits,  on  matters  connected 
with  it. 

I  wrote  to  Mr.  Pigott  and  Mr.  Downing,  M.  P.,  already,  and  you  can  tell  them— 
your  father  and  Mr.  P.  at  least — they  may  keep  on  writing  to  me,  if  they  have  any- 
thing to  say  or  send. 

"  Don't,  therefore,  abate  or  alter,  after  so  long  endurance,  any  of  your  principles, 
beliefs,  or  inspirations,  &c."    'Tis  funny  to  see  .you  writing  these  words  to  me.  ifsyou 


CP  Donovan  Rosso*  s  Prison  Life.  351 

are  acting  in  this  matter  on  your  own  advice.  'Tis  so  different  from  the  threatening 
notice  you  sent  me  from  America  of  not  living  with  me  if  I  neglected  my  family  in 
future ;  but  I  am  glad  that  you  are  at  last  strong. 

Yours,  dear  Mollis,  ever  fondly, 

JER.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

Sunday  Mokning — 5  O'Clock — July  10,  '70. 

Mr  Dear  Wife  :  After  having  slept  on  your  letter,  or  rather  after  having  spent  the 
night  awake  on  it,  I  write  a  more  brief  and  more  decisive  note  than  the  long  "  do-as° 
you-please  "  one  which  I  wrote  upon  its  receipt  last  evening. 

If  I  have  ever  made  sacrifices  for  public  interests,  I  have  liked  to  see  my  way, 
and  I  cannot,  in  this  matter,  see  how  your  visiting  me  now  is  to  injure  public  interests. 

I  do  not  intend  to  injure  public  interests.  I  have  no  fear  that  anything  I  will  ask 
you  to  do  will  injure  them,  and  I  ask  you  to  come. 

I  like  to  get  my  will  to  accompany  me  in  any  direction.  To  serve  public  inter- 
ests against  my  inclination  is  what  I  have  not  done,  or  cannot  do.  If  I  strive  to  ac- 
commoda'e  one  to  the  o'her,  my  friends  and  public  interests  should  make  some  allow- 
ance for  the  weaknesses  of  poor  human  nature  and  the  selfishness  inseparable  from 
man. 

There  is  one  condition,  and  one  alone,  on  which  I  tell  you  stay;  and  that  condition 
is,  that  all  the  visiting  friends  of  all  the  prisoners  have  agreed  to  avail  not  of  the  permis- 
sion to  visit  until  this  Commission  has  done  its  duty,  and  that  no  prisoner  is  to  have  a 
visit  from  anyone.  If  you  have  entered  into  such  a  compact  as  this,  I  will  so  far  yield 
to  the  public  opinion  as  to  tell  you  hold  to  it.  If  you  have  not,  I  will  not  allow  you  to 
be  swayed  by  any  other  advice  than  mine — not  even  by  your  own — and  I  ask  you, 
with  any  authority  you  concede  to  me  as  a  dead  husband,  to  come. 

Apart  from  public  reasons,  there  are  two  other  excuses  for  not  coming,  which  I 
will  hold  equally  valid.  They  are:  the  absense  of  anv  desire,  on  your  part,  to  see 
me,  or  have  a  long  private  conversation  with  me,  and  tne  absence  of  money  necessary 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  coming. 

I  do  not  know,  Mollis,  but  that  there  is  some  of  the  husband  pride  breaking  out 
here,  for  I  think  I  feel  a  little  humiliation  at  being  obliged  to  say  to  my  companions, 
when  I  meet  them  by-and-by,  at  nine  o'clock,  "Oh,  my  wife  wouldn't  come." 

I  am  to  go  through  this  inquiry  whether  j-ou  come  or  not,  and  your  advice  or  as- 
sistance might  not  change  the  course  I  have  struck  out  for  myself,  and  that  course  I 
have  determined  with  a  view  to  public  more  than  personal  hv  erests. 

I  only  feel  that  I  could  go  through  it  with  a  lighter  heart  if  you  could  have  cheer- 
fully responded  to  my  call.  Equanimity,  evenness,  or  peace  of  mind,  is  what  alone  has 
preserved  my  health  in  prison  sc  far,  and  I  must  cultivate  this,  "  for  what  is  the  world 
to  me  if  my  wife  is  a  widow,"  and  you  must  assist  me  if  you  are  not  otherwise 
disposed. 

If  you  are  coming,  telegraph  from  Bandon  to  the  Governor  to  tell  me.  If  you  are 
not,  send  the  unwelcome  message  also  by  lhe  first  car-driver  that  passes  for  Bandon. 
Attend  to  this,  for  I  had  two  or  three  days'  work  struck  out  for  you. 

I  got  from  the  authorities  six  of  my  suppressed  letters  to  you,  twenty  sheets  of 
"memorials"  to  the  Secretary  of  Staie,  and  I  had  lhese  for  you  to  copy  in  large 
hand,  for  the  Commission. 

I  will  have  1o  go  at  them  myself  if  you  do  not  come,  and  writing  has  become  most 
unpleasant  to  me,  as  it  painfully  awakens  this  affection  of  the  spine.  The  time  is 
getting  short,  therefore  telegraph.    Remember  to  all.    I  got  nothing  but  your  letter. 

Yours,  dear  Mollis,  ever  faithfully, 

JER.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

During  our  interviews  at  this  Commission,  to  which  I  will  de- 
mote the  next  chapter,  you  may  be  sure  we  talked  very  little 
about  the  inquiry  or  about  the  case  I  was  to  make  out.  I  had 
all  that  settled  before  my  wife  came,  and  we  spent  the  hours  to- 
gether getting  and  giving  an  account  of  our  lives  and  all  that  con- 
cerned us  in  life.  It  was  as  curious  a  position  as  ever  a  married 
couple  were  seen  in,  to  see  us  sitting  in  this  glass  house  with  Prin- 
cipal Warder  King  as  sentry  outside  the  glass  door;  and  was  it  not 
a  curious  place  for  her  to  reproach  me  with  ingratitude  because  I 
never  wrote  a  line  of  poetry  for  her  since  we  were  married  ?    When 


352  0 'Donovan  Rosso' s  Prison  Life. 

I  went  to  my  cell  that  evening  I  wrote  the  following  lines,  and 
made  her  very  agreeable  next  day  by  presenting  them  to  her  when 
we  met  in  the  morning  : 

A  single  glance,  and  that  glance  the  first, 
And  her  image  was  fixed  in  my  mind  and  nursed  ; 
And  now  it  is  woven  with  all  my  schemes, 
And  it  rules  the  realm  of  all  my  dreams. 

One  of  Heaven's  best  gift-*  in  an  earthly  mould, 
With  a  figure  Appelles  might  paint  of  old  — 
All  a  maiden's  charms  with  a  matron's  grace, 
And  the  blossom  and  bloom  of  the  peach  in  her  face. 

And  the  genius  that  flashes  her  bright  black  eye 
Is  the  face  of  the  sun  in  a  clouded  sky  ; 
She  has  noble  thoughts — she  has  noble  aims — 
And  the»e  thoughts  on  her  tongue  are  sparkling  gems.. 

With  a  gifted  mind  and  a  spirit  meek 
She  would  right  the  wronged  and  assist  the  weak  ; 
She  would  scorn  dangers  to  cheer  the  brave, 
She  would  smite  oppression  and  free  the  slave. 

Yet  a  blighted  life  is  my  loved  one's  part, 
And  a  death-cold  shroud  is  around  her  heart, 
For  winds  from  the  "clouds  of  fate"  have  blown 
That  force  her  to  face  the  hard  world  alone. 

And  a  daughter  she  of  a  trampled  land, 
With  its  children  exiled,  prisoned,  banned  ; 
And  she  vowed  her  love  to  a  lover  whom 
The  tyrant  had  marked  for  a  felon's  doom, 

And  snatched  from  her  side  ere  the  honeymoon  waned  : 
In  the  dungeons  of  England  he  lies  enchained  ; 
And  the  bonds  that  bind  him  "for  life"  a  slave 
Are  binding  his  love  to  his  living  grave. 

He  would  sever  the  links  of  such  hopeless  love, 
Were  that  sentence  "for  ever"  decreed  above : 
For  the  pleasures  don't  pay  for  the  pains  of  life — 
To  be  living  in  death  with  a  icidoioed  wife. 

A  single  glance,  and  that  glance  the  first, 
And  her  image  was  fixed  in  my  mind  and  nursed, 
And  now  she's  the  woof  of  my  worldly  schemes, 
And  she  sits  enthroned  as  the  queen  of  my  dreams 

Chatham  Prison,  July,  1870. 

"The  longest  days  must  have  an  end, 
And  the  dearest  friends  must  part." 

And  so  it  was  with  us.  Our  six  or  seven  days'  communion 
-with  each  other  came  swiftly  to  an  end,  and  stone  walls  and  prison 
•bars  again  divided  us.     Without  a  word  of  preface  I  will  close  this 


0^  Donovan  Rosscts  Prison  Life.  353 

chapter  with  the  following  two  letters.     What  ingratitude  !  to  write 
to  me  in  such  a  strain  after  making  such  a  sweet  poem  for  her : 

London,  178  Stamford  St.,  ) 

Waterloo  Bridge,  August  9th,  1870.  ) 
My  Dear  Rossa  :  I  know  it  is  very  ungrateful  of  me  to  have  kept  you  in  supense 
all  this  time.    I  have  no  excuse  to  offer  for  myself  only  one  that  makes  my  delin- 
quency worse,  i.  e.,  I  hated  to  write. 

I  reasoned  and  argued  with  my  disinclination,  but  I  could  get  no  answer  from  it 
but  "  Let  me  alone,  I  am  miserable  ;  bury  Chatham — fly  from  it,  forget  it,  for  all  my 
wretchedness  lies  there."  So  I  groaned  and  turned  my  face  farther  away  from  that 
fortified  town  by  the  sea,  and  each  day  I  said,  "  I  will  forget  it  yet  to-day,  and  to-mor- 
row I  will  force  myself  to  write  to  him."  It  seems  cruel  to  write  in  such  a  strain  to 
you,  especially  as  I  know  there  are  depths  in  me  you  have  never  sounded,  and  would 
not  be  able  to  understand — depths  of  capacity  for  suffering  from  reflections  which 
would  bring  no  suffering  to  you.  Since  I  last  saw  you,  I  have  sat  for  hours  and  hours 
with  locked  hands,  closed  lips  and  vacantly  fixed  eyes,  actually  blank  with  the  load 
of  invisible  misery  I  seem  to  be  carrying.  It  is  grown  to  be  a  disease  with  me,  this 
fearful  weight  of  melancholy.  It  so  overwhelms  my  soul  that  I  cannot  see  in  the 
future  any  circumstance  that  could  reanimate  me — anything  that  could  bring  me  per- 
manent joy. 

"  'Tis  not  on  youth's  smooth  cheek  alone 
The  blush  which  fades  so  fast, 
But  the  tender  bloom  of  heart  is  gone, 
Ere  youth  itself  be  past." 

No ;  I  am  so  changed,  so  hardened,  so  disenchanted  of  my  life,  so  utterly  dead  of 
heart  and  bare  of  hopes,  that  if  the  prisons  poured  forth  their  occupants  to- 
morrow, I  should  be  capable  of  no  more  than  the  general  public  rejoicement,  for  I  am 
dead  while  I  live.  Life  is  not  what  I  had  hoped — it  is  bare,  cold,  wretched  reality.  It 
is  not  good  for  me  to  see  you  or  to  write  to  you.  What  is  the  use  of  concealing  that  the 
farther  in  soul  and  bod}- 1  am  away  from  Chatham  the  less  unhappy  I  have  ever  been. 
Do  not  blame  me.  I  cannot  sit  down  to  write  to  you  without  having  my  passive  mel- 
ancholy turned  into  active  anguish.  I  am  blameable  if  you  will— I  am  weak,  I  am 
cruel,  I  am  ungenerous,  I  am  anything  you  choose  to  call  me  in  anger.  I  do  not  de- 
fend myself.  I  have  no  reason  for  the  fit  of  despondency  which  has  increased  from 
time  to  time  on  me — I  know  no  cause  unless  it  is  madness — but  I  know  it  is  exaggerated 
and  intensified  to  a  degree  in  which  I  cannot  control  my  words  when  I  collect  my 
thoughts  to  write  to  you  or  to  v'sit  you. 

It  is  a  cruel  thing  to  say  it,  but  I  would  to  God  you  had  never  seen  me— that  I  had 
died  at  school,  or  gone  into  the  grave  with  that  fair  young  cousin  of  mine  at  whose 
wake  and  funeral  I  first  saw  you.  Then  I  should  have  missed  the  pangs  of  earth,  and 
been  less  unworthy  of  the  bliss  of  Heaven.  Now  the  spirit  and  the  flesh  both  suffer.  The 
light  of  Heaven  seems  no  more  to  shine  upon  the  darkness  of  my  life.  God  Himself 
seems  to  have  deserted  me.  As  the  pillar  of  light  to  the  Israelites  in  their  dark 
pilgrimage  between  them  and  their  enemies,  so  stood  between  me  and  the 
misery  of  my  portion  God's  blessed  love.  It  is  gone  from  me— it  has  left  me, 
I  cannot  see  a  star  of  promise,  nor  feel  anything  but  solid  darkness  in  my 
whole  soul's  horizon.  I  am  barren  of  prayer  as  of  earthly  hope.  "  My  soul 
is  sorrowful  unto  Death  !"  but  unhappily  it  is  not  "  for  its  sins  "  it  is  so  sorrowful.  It 
is  the  sorrow  of  a  soul  so  clouded  and  covered  with  sorrowing  flesh  that  it  cannot 
find  a  chink  in  its  solid  armor  of  discontent  through  which  to  look  up  to  its  native 
Heaven.  Therefore,  "  air-tight"  in  the  body,  it  is  impregnated  with  the  body's  woes. 
Truly,  a  piteous  plight;  and  I  would  thank  forever  whosoever  would  help  speedily 
out  of  its  contemptible  and  uncomfortable  habitation  my  distressed  spirit.  If  they 
would  but  give  me  a  minute's  grace  to  pray,  I  would  consider  myself  fortunate  to  fall 
in  with  a  band  of  desperadoes,  covetous  of  my  life — but  pshaw !  what's  the  use  of  al- 
lowing my  pen  to  express  so  many  words  of  nonsense.  I  will  turn  from  the  subject. 
When  I  left  Chatham  for  London,  I  did  so  in  a  state  of  great  disquietude,  on  my  fath- 
er's account,  and  on  arriving  in  London  I  lost  no  time  in  driving  to  Paddington  sta- 
tion. I  reached  it  and  actually  had  bought  my  ticket,  and  was  importuning  the  porter 
to  leave  some  other  work  and  bring  in  my  baggage,  when  the  bell  rang,  the  engine 
screamed,  mere  was  a  final  banging  of  carriage  doors,  and  I  had  the  mortification  of 
hearing  the  train  go  "  puff,  puff,  puffing"  out  of  the  station  as  the  sulky  porter  got  half 
way  to  it.  I  made  a  great  complaint  to  the  Inspector,  but 'twas  in  vain— no  other  train 
was  to  be  had  in  time  to  catch  the  Bristol  boat.  I  telegraphed  home  to  know  if  Papa 
was  so  ill  that  I  should  go  by  that  horrible  way  of  Dublin.  I  got  no  answer.  I  tele- 
graphed again  and  put  up  at  the  Great  Western  Hotel.   Friday,  Saturday,  Sunday— no 


354:  0*  Donovan  Mossds  Prison  Life. 

answer  to  my  messages.  I  got  vexed  and  telegraphed  to  Papa  himself,  to  sister  Isa^ 
to  Tim,  and  to  the  party  he  boarded  with  in  Cork,  and  on  Monday  evening  I  had  an 
answer  from  them  that  would  have  made  me  exccessively  angry,  only  it  relieved  my 
fears  for  Papa.  Papa  was  ill,  certainly,  hut  it  was  not  dangerous  illness,  and  their 
anxiety  to  see  me  at  home  was  their  principal  reason  for  alarming  me  about  Papa. 
This  I  gathered  from  the  dispatch,  and  next  morning,  in  a  letter  from  home,  I  was  in- 
formed that  from  the  extreme  gloom  and  unnatural  despondency  of  my  letters  to  Tim 
and  my  father,  they  were  afraid  something  awful  would  happen  to  me,  and  they 
thought  nothing  would  bring  me  under  their  prolection  so  quickly  as  a  telegram  of 
Papa's  serious  illness.  Though  I  pretended  to  Tim  I  was  outrageous  at  being  unnec- 
essarily alarmed,  still  I  treasure  up  this  fact  as  a  proof  of  my  family's  great  affection 
for  me,  so  clearly  as  they  read  my  mind  from  the  mere  tone  of  my  letters !  so  promptly 
their  love  for  me  suggested  the  readiest  way  to  bring  me  again  under  soothing  home 
influences !  Oh,  may  God  bless  my  father.  The  poorer  in  heart,  and  soul,  and  purse, 
I  grow,  the  richer  he  grows  in  love  for  me,  and  in  devices  to  heal,  to  comfort  and  to  lead 
me  right.  To  his  prayers  that  are  always  ascending  to  Heaven  for  me,  I  attribute 
my  safety  in  many  a  past  danger — to  his  advice  where  I  have  taken  it,  I  owe  all  that 
is  good  and  fruitful  of  good,  and  in  every  act  that  crossed  my  father's  wishes,  I  have 
sown  bitter,  barren,  thorny  seed.  If  I  can  pray  for  nothing  else,  I  can  pray  "  God  bless 
my  father,"  and  then  I  shall  know  one  is  blessed  who  will  never  forget  to  pray  bless- 
ings on  me.  Tim  told  me  there  was  no  immediate  necessity  for  me  to  leave  London, 
and  I  therefore  came  back  to  my  old  boarding  place,  and  wrote  requesting  Tim  would 
come  over  to  make  arrangements  for  my  readings  in  England.  Unfortunately  he  has 
been  really  ill  with  congh  and  cold,  and  could  not  leave  his  room  safely.  Dr.  Hadden 
told  him,  so  I  must  wait  for  him  even  some  clays  beyond  to-day.  Meantime,  I  have  had 
a  letter  from  the  Rossa  and  Kickham  Committee.  It  seems  they  are  heavily  in  debt, 
and  they  naturally  turn  to  me  to  get  assistance  in  the  shape  of  a  few  readings.  I 
could  not  easily  refuse,  so  I  have  at  once  consented.  I  would  not  grudge  three  times 
the  labor  I  will  have,  to  the  men  individually,  but  I  feel  some  fears  about  associating 
my  work  with  theirs  in  England.  'Twould  be  all  right  in  Ireland,  but  I  don't  think 
it  will  serve  me  with  Irishmen  in  England  who  have  little  sympathy  with  their  peti- 
tion failure.  However,  I  am  pledged  to  them  now,  and,  "  sink  or  swim,"  I  will  do  my 
utmost  for  them. 

I  think  m-.  friends  begin  to  feel  it  might  be  dangerous  for  them  to  show  their 
faces  here.  I  have  only-  seen  the  visage  of  my  old  friends,  the  detectives  (two  occa- 
casions  excepted,  on  which  "  Counsellor  O'C."  called  to  inquire  about  youandFitz,to 
ask  about  m.\  self!)  since  I  left  Chatham,  so  I  am  utterly  alone,  friendless — left  to  my 
own  sad  thoughts.  I  went  the  evening  before  last  with  my  landlady's  niece  to  walk 
from  Westminster  to  the  end  of  the  embankment.  The  boats  had  stopped  running, 
the  river  was  very  quiet,  and  the  moon  was  spreading  a  cloak  of  silver  on  the  water. 
We  leaned  for  a  long  time  on  the  low  granite  parapet  of  the  embankment.  So  softly 
the  waves  lapped  up  against  their  boundary!  so  gently, as  the  light  of  a  woman's 
tender  blue  eye,  the  mild  waters  invited  me  to  their  breast,  that  I  could  not  wonder 
many  a  poor  wretch,  deceived  b.  a  love  of  the  world,  should  be  tempted  to  throw  her- 
self into  so  soothing  and  placid  a  bosom  as  the  Thames  unveiled  by  moonlight.  One 
could  not  help  thinking  that  a  dreamless  rest  might  be  got  by  trusting  the  weary 
limbs  to  such  a  soft  and  winning  nurse.  I  wrote  to  McClure's  family,  and  I  wrote  to  Miss 
Crowley,  butgotno  replyyet.  I  sent  your  poem  as  you"  commanded  /"  to  Mr.Pigott. 
I  must  say  you  are  growing  q-iiie  imperious  of  late,  anticipating  the  royal  honors 
you  will  receive  if  ever  you  live  to  be  "  King  of  Ireland,"  and  the  obedience  you  will 
demand.  The  Commission  has  not,  to  my  knowledge,  made  any  report  of  its  labor 
yet,  and  I  am  therefore  not  working  on  any  notes  I  took  in  Chatham.  I  am  trying, 
by  letting  it  drift  rather  indolently,  to  help  my  mind  recover  its  balance,  and  with 
God's  grace  it  may  be  lifted  out  of  the  "  slough  of  despondency"  into  which  it  so 
deeply  fell.  "All  is  vanity  but  loving  God  and  serving  Him  alone."  Now,  if  I  had 
a  brave  Purtinn  husband  who  would  rather  elevate  my  soul  to  the  foot  of  Heaven  by 
sympathetic  faith,  than  weaken  it  a3  you  do  by  going  no  farther  than  earth,  I  would 
be  better  blc  to  bear  my  sufferings.  But  there  is  no  sympathy  between  your  soul 
and  /nine.  1  consider  the  first  aim  of  existence  is  to  serve  God,  and  unless  done  in 
His  service,  I  look  on  every  noble  act  as  wasted.  But  I  am  very  weak.  Oh!  weak 
beyond  belief;  and  though  I  have  for  whiles  detached  myself  from  earthly  love,  and 
fixed  a  fai  hful  and  mwandering  eye  on  the  goal  of  life  toward  which  I  have  tried  to 
trim  my  uncertain  footsl  eps,  still  outward  influences  coming  from  sources  near  enough 
to  be  strong,  can  shake  to  fragments  my  card-house  of  piety  and  leave  me  shivering 
and  worthless  in  the  blast  of  Fate.  I  have  a  cousin  of  your  name,  and  if  you  were 
but  like  him  in  belief,  in  soul,  I,  reposing  on  you,  should  be  strong  though  leagues, 
and  laws,  and  death  div.ded  us.  Withal  my  appetite  for  earthly  things,  there  is  in  me 
a.Dassionate.  vearning  to  rise  to  higher  tilings,  a  desire  to  be  either  free  to  seek  my 


0 'Donovan  Rosso? $  Prison  Life.  355 

way  undeterred  by  earthly  vassalage  to  the  foot  of  God's  throne,  or  (Combination  of 
earth  and  heaven)  to  seek  it  hand  in  hand,  and  more  securely,  with  a  stronger  partner 
soul.  For  "what  is  it  to  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  your  own  soul."  What  is 
fame?  I  could  curse  it.  What  is  love  but  a  rapid  road  to  misery,  if  its  links  are  not 
riveted  by  common  and  voluntary  service  to  the  spirit  ot  Love,  which  is  God!  Flung 
into  the  world,  utterly  alone  and  belonging  to  nobody,  God  will  claim  and  hold  me  ;  but 
made  half  of  another  being,  for  good  or  ill,  the  soul  of  that  other  being  must  have  an  influ- 
ence on  my  soul.  If  it  will  not  help  me  to  God,  it  will  help  me  away  from  Him,  and  the 
least  it  will  do  is  to  distract  and  fling  into  indecision  the  spirit  that  had  just  strength, 
and  no  more,  to  keep  itself  "  on  its  feet."  I  have  no  faith  in  human  honor,  in  human 
virtue,  or  in  human  truth.  .If  men  who  profess  no  religion  do  not  rob  their  neighbors 
of  their  wives  and  goods,  do  not  swe:ir  falsehoods  and  spill  human  blood,  it  is  simply 
because  they  are  not  tempted  to  do  any  of  these  thiiigs,or  they  cannot  without  hurt- 
ing some  nearer  interest  to  them,  or  they  are  afraid  of  human  penalties  imposed  by 
human  law.  And  in  the  matter  of  the  wives— and  maids  too— men  are  honorable  because 
of  all  the  forementioned  reasons,  and  added  to  them,  that  after  overcoming  all  these 
reasons,  the  woman  may  not  at  all  be  inclined  to  be  kind,  and  may  leave  him  hope- 
less of  success  in  his  designs.  I  begin  to  grow  tired  of  writing,  sleepy  too,  for  'tis 
late.  I  think  I  shall  leave  anything  else  I  have  to  say  until  to-morrow,  yet  I  shall 
finish  the  subject  I  was  on,  i.  e.,  my  disbelief  in  human  virtue.  You  have  said  I  am 
proud,  and  to  my  pride,  and  my  love  for  yourself,  }tou  attribute  the  creditable  figure 
I  have  made  in  my  strange  ana  most  unhappy  life.  You  are  much  mistaken.  I  am 
not  prouder  than  was  Cleopatra,  nor,  to  come  nearer  home,  than  was  Queen  Eliza- 
beth; and,  if  the  stories  be  true  that  people  read  of  them,  their  pride  was  admirably 
accommodated  to  their  inclination.  And  as  for  my  love  for  yourself— why,  the  Devil 
has  often  whispered  to  me  that  you  are  the  root  of  all  my  misfortunes,  andthatl  have 
little  reason  to  be  thankful  for  the  amount  of  affection  you  bestowed  on  me,  as  that 
did  not  lend  to  any  worldly  or  spiritual  advantage  of  mine,  but  only  to  the  gratifica- 
tion of  your  own  personal  passion;  and,  again,  I  am  convinced  that  had  I  married  the 
least  remarkable  for  mind,  position,  money  or  person  of  God's  creatures  at  that  time, 
1  would  have  been  a  fond  and  faithful  wife,  as  I  am  convinced  every  innocent,  honor- 
able, religiously  reared  Irish  girl  is  to  her  husband.  It  is  easy  for  people  to  say  that 
love  comes  but  once.  I  am  sure  I  could  love  a  hundred  husbands  (one  at  a  time !)  and 
except  that  I  should  naturally  have  a  preference  and  give  a  sigh  to  one  that  perhaps 
had  passed  away,  neither  of  them  s  ould  iind  fault  wit  i  me  for  undeserved  coldness. 
I  should  scruple  to  say  this  to  you,  if  I  were  your  first  wife,  but  you,  who  find  no  more 
difficulty  in  fitting  yourself  to'  a  new  marriage  relation  than  to  a  new  pair  of  gloves, 
must  be  prepared  to  expect  an  equal  liberality  in  the  mind  of  the  woman  philosophi- 
cal enough  or  courageous  enough  to  take  you. 

So  I  do  confess  that  though  I  might  have  a  preference  for  you,  that  preference 
would  not  at.  all  interfere  with  somebody  else's  prospects.  Therefore,  I  do  not  look 
upon  "  Love  "  as  my  shield  from  the  sentimental  ills  of  life.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  the 
enemy's  mine  under  my  feet,  which  I  must  tread  over  with  the  greatest  caution,  and 
hold  in  the  holiest  fear  lest  it  at  some  time  be  my  destruction.  I  told  you  once,  and  I 
tell  you  again,  I  had  and  I  have  no  reliance  but  on  God — no  reliance  but  in  Him — no 
happiness  but  where  he  allows  it.  My  father  is,  and  has  been  all  his  life,  of  a  deeply 
religious  turn.  Tim,  as  he  advances  in  years,  is  of  my  father's  mind,  and  when  I  am 
at  home  and  under  their  influence  a  blessed  peace  gradually  takes  possession  of  my 
stormy  heart.  In  America  I  was  often  visiting  with  Frank  Donovan's  family,  and  one 
could  not  be  unhappy  or  wicked  in  their  vicinity.  Frank's  letters,  like  his  conversa 
tion,  breathed  an  apostolic  spirit.  They  led  me  to  peace  as  often  as  it  left  me;  and 
peace  is  the  only  gift  to  be  craved  in  this  life — deep  religious  peace.  Perhaps  if  C 
could  get  off  to  you  a  couple  of  letters  like  this  you  would  come  to  understand  me. 
You  imagine  you  have  always  understood  me,  but  I  do  not  think  so.  I  do  not  know 
how  you  could  do  so,  seeing  that  while  3Tou  were  with  me  every  natural  impulse  of 
mine  was  in  obedience  to  my  desire  to  be  a  "  perfect  wife,"  and  when  my  feelings  or 
my  words  would  not  have  pleased  you,  I,  so  far  from  home,  amongst  perfect  strangers, 
and  dependent  on  your  pleasure  for  my  peace,  took  care  to  be  silent.  If  I  had  mar- 
ried you,  looking  forward  to  spending  my  life  with  you,  I  think  I  should  have  acted 
less  complaisantly  on  several  occasions.  I  say  I  think,  for  I'm  not  sure  but  my  natural 
softness  would  have  bound  me  to  your  will  anyway,  but  you  knew,  and  I  felt,  that  we 
had  made  a  mad  leap  to  reach  a  temporary  island  in  a  stream,  which  island  would  be 
washed  from  under  our  feet  in  one,  two,  three,  or,  atmost,  twelve  months.  Did  you  not 
tell  me  in  those  old  letters  that  my  father  burnt,  that,  feeling  that  you  had  but  a  short 
span  of  life  to  run,  you  wanted  all  the  pleasure  possible  in  the  time  (you  were  not  a 
law-abiding  citizen !) ,  and  what  could  I  do  but  help  you  to  the  best  of  my  ability  to  make 
that  poor  "  remnant  of  your  life  serene?"  I  argued  to  myself,  as  I  dared  the  thing  at  all, 
it  would  be  like  "  straining  at  a  gnat  after  swallowing  a  camel"  to  object  to  anything 


356  O  ^  Donovan  Rosso)  s  Prison  Life, 

else.  There  is  one  thing,  Cariss,  that  you  may  be  sure  of— I  will  never  take  the  same 
amount  of  trouble  for  you  or  for  any  other  man  again.  Human  love  is  selfish,  except 
in  the  first  enthusiasm  of  youth;  after  twenty  (no  one  I  believe  passes  that  age  with- 
out experiencing  the  divine  sentiment)  love  is  no  longer  conceived  in  such  purity  and 
nursed  in  such  utter  and  sustained  unselfishness.  It  becomes  a  selfish  human  passion, 
living  only  so  long  as  the  object  gives  pleasure,  and  ceasing  when  the  object  thwarts 
the  will,  offends  the  vanity,  or  fails  to  minister  to  the  sell-love,  pride,  passion,  or 
power  of  the  pretended  lover.  You  often  said  you  loved  me,  but  I  never  put  your 
love  to  proof,  and  I  never  believed  but  if  I  did  put  it  to  proof  I  should  find  it  wanting. 
I  remember  I  never  showed  the  slightest  indication  to  interfere  with  your  move- 
ments but  a  shadow,  slight,  yet  perceptible  to  me,  would  come  between  us.  I  took 
warning  from  slight  indications,  and  I  forebore  experimenting  where  I  felt  it  likely  I 
should,  by  testing,  find  myself  unpleasantly  convinced.  How  can  you  know  anything  of 
me,  therefore,  but  that  which  I  believed  would  be  most  pleasing  to  you  ?  Love  is  easily 
tested.  It  is  often  found  in  woman,  seldom  in  man;  but  its  step-brother,  Passion,  takes  its 
place  and  its  name,  and  assumes  to  itself  the  honors,  and  the  license,  and  the  title  of  Love, 
wlile  doing  most  unloving  things.  By  their  fruits  love  and  passion  are  distinguishable. 
Love  does  not,  as  Passion  does,  take  to  itself  its  object  for  a  slave  and  servant,  but 
Love  makes  itself  the  slave  of  its  object.  Love  does  not  gather  its  I  eloved  from  secur- 
ity and  peace  to  garnish  and  render  odorous  his  own  uncertain  and  hazardous  hours. 
Love  does  not  that  which,  to  bring  comfort  to  himself,  must  bring  detriment  to  the 
beloved.  Love  looks  with  unselfish  eyes  to  the  life-long  happiness  of  the  beloved. 
Love  is  pure  and  patient  and  all-trusting;  love  gathers  to  itself  its  beloved  more 
dearly  and  fondly,  for  the  poveny,  the  unjust  revilements,  the  disappointments  of 
life.  Bat  Passion,  that  covers  himself  with  love's  mantle  !  oh,  he  is  cruel  and  sel- 
fish, and  vain  and  ungenerous.  He  will  snatch  his  object  from  a  fortress,  and  plant 
her  upon  a  precipice.  He  will  enslave  her.  He  will  seek  recklessly  the  gratification 
of  the  hour,  if  she  should  die  of  the  effect  in  the  next — and  withal  he  is  blind  enough 
to  imagine  himself  the  legitimate  representative  of  Love  !  Passion  is  unscrupulous, 
and  making  floods  of  protestations  makes  yet  no  effort  to  smooth  the  path  of  life  for 
his  object.  He  feeds  himself  with  the  notion  that  in  gratifying  himself  he  gratifies  his 
object;  and  no  fine  care  for  her,  no  single  thought  for  her  separate  ease  or  pleasure, 
gives  the  poor  victim  to  understand  that  she  is  more  to  him  than  the  dinner  he  eats, 
enjoys  and  praises,  the  coat  he  wears  and  finds  comfortable,  or  the  horse  he  rides 
and  takes  pride  in.  They  are  all  ministers  to  his  wants  and  wishes,  and  he  has  an 
unthoughtof,  unconscious  belief,  I  suppose,  that  the  horse  is  happy  to  have  such  a 
master,  and  the  coat  done  justice  to  by  having  such  a  wearer,  but  1  doubt  whether  he 
would,  on  reflection,  say  the  dinner  was  blest  in  having  such  an  appreciative  eater? 
Unless  on  the  principle  which  seems  to  animate  sham  philanthropists,  to  whom  all 
men  are  beloved  and  inexpensive  brothers,  and  who  cannot  understand  why  those 
beloved  brothers  (albeit  they  are  hungry  and  unclad)  are  not  joyful  in  the  Lord  with 
them  for  love  and  blessings  which  they  have  all  in  a  lump,  but  which  the  poor  souls 
nave  none  of.  I  could  pursue  the  subject  without  half  exhausting  it  till  to-morrow 
night,  but  I  am  grown  altogether  too  weary  and  sleepy  now  to  write  any  more.  I  am 
trying  to  think,  in  a  stupid,  sleepy  way,  did  you  ever  give  me  one  proof  of  self-for- 
getting love?  I  can't  remember,  though  I  have  often  thought  before  on  the  subject. 
Perhaps  I'd  dream  it,  so  good  night. 

Give  my  most  affectionate  regards  to  each  and  all  your  friends  in  prison. 
Don  t  forget  to  tell  McClure  I  wrote  to  his  family,  and,  in  fact,  have  obeyed  every 
direction  with  which  I  was  entrusted  by  either.  When  I  get  news  for  them,  from 
any  quarter,  it  will  not  be  my  fault  if  they  are  not  apprised  of  it.  As  the  poor 
fellows  do  not  have  a  great  many  letters,  I  think  the  Governor  would  not  consider 
it  incumbent  on  him  to  suppress  a  letter  of  mine  to  them. 

If  you  wish  me  to  take  advantage  of  the  Governor's  permission  to  see  you,  tell 
him  so,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  be  good  enough  to  order  his  secretary  drop  me  a  line 
intimative  of  your  wish.  As  it  is,  having  nothing  particular  to  say,  I  should  not,  for 
my  own  pleasure,  take  the  trip  to  Chatham.  Tim  will  be  here  in  a  few  days,  and 
when  I  have  had  a  conversation  with  him  I  may  be  less  barren  of  gossip  for  you; 
but,  in  any  case,  if  you  wish  me  to  run  down  to  Chatham,  say  so,  and  I  shall  go,  even 
if  you  had  no  more  desire  than  to  find  fault  with  this  letter  and  myself. 

Do  not  tear  this  letter  in  anger,  for  I  shall  be  curious  after  awhile  to  know 
what  I  could  have  written  in  forty  pages,  and  what  you  thought  of  a  great  deal 
I  have  for  the  first  time  expressed  to  you.  The  words  are  held  together  by  so 
glight  a  thread  as  a  hair  from  the  head  of  your  affectionate  wife, 

MARY  J.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 


(y*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  357 

Chatham,  August  13th,  1870. 
Mrs.  O'Donovan  Rossa,  178  Stamford  St.,  London: 

By  Jove  !  Mollis,  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you  now,  after  the  terrible  revela- 
tions you  made  to  me  to-day.  To  think  that  you  would  marry  another  man  if  I 
were  dead!  Oh,  'tis  awful!  and  111  not  die  as  long  as  I  can  live.  But  I  suppose 
'tis  worse  to  think  of  it  alive  than  dead.  I  should  like  to  talk  to  you,  as  the  Ger- 
mans say — unter  fier  augen — "under  four  eyes,"  on  those  distinctions  you  draw  be- 
tween love  and  passion.  The  characteristics  of  the  latter  may  hit  off  myself,  you 
think,  but  I  am  not  going  to  give  myself  to  you  at  such  a  valuation.  You  are  out  in 
your  estimation  of  me  here,  as  much  as  you  are  out  in  thinking  that  in  the  presence 
of  God  I  have  little  religion,  because  I  might  differ  a  little  from  you.  What  would  you 
say  if  it  would  be  in  a  religious  spirit  I  would  incur  so  much  of  your  displeasure 
as  to  get  you  to  threaten  you  would  not  live  with  me  ?  This  you  could  not 
see  by  my  regard  for  the  outward  ceremonies,  but  if  you  could  regard  the  eyes 
of  the  soul  you  may  see  them  fixed  on  their  Creator,  in  the  hope  that  He  would 
accept  the  sufferings  that  are  to  be  encountered  in  this  world  by  all  who  seek  to 
elevate  God's  work — accept  my  share  of  them  in  the  risks  I  run  as  some  atonement 
for  my  sins.  I  told  you  thatlhad  a  particular  mental  prayer,  "that  if  the  Almighty 
interfered  in  the  petty  ways  of  this  world,  He  would  in  His  mercy  send  me  my 
punishment  here,  and  peace  hereafter."  This  is  a  pretty  hard  prayer,  when  I 
make  it  in  view  of  the  possibility  of  living  years  of  absence  from  you,  and  under  the 
pains  and  penalties  of  this  servitude. 

Yet  it  calms  my  mind  in  view  of  the  future  world,  for  God  knows  my  mind, 
and  if  the  reason  He  has  given  me  does  not  enable  me  to  view  Him  with  other 
men's  reason,  how  can  I  help  it?  I  cannot  act  the  hypocrite  to  God,  and  trample 
under  foot  what  He  has  given  me  for  my  light.  You  would  not  like  this  prayer  if 
you  thought  it  would  be  heard  so  as  to  keep  me  in  this  living  grave  for  a  number  of 
years.  No,  and  no  wonder.  Nor  would  I  desire  the  long-suffering,  either;  but 
eternity  is  longer,  and  though  you  imagine  I  think  but  little  of  that,  I  do  not 
imagine  so  myself.  There  is  another  thing  in  the  prayer  you  will  object  to,  and  that 
is  the  "  if;"  but  I  will  not,  for  I  cannot,  do  away  with  it.  I  see  too  much  injustice  in 
the  world,  and  I  cannot  bring  nrysell  to  say  that  it  is  God's  work.  I  cannot,  with  the 
historian  D'Aubigne,  assert  that  "  the  history  of  the  government  of  this  world  is  the 
annals  of  the  government  of  the  Sovereign  King."  I  may  be  wrong ;  the  ways  of  the 
Lord  are  wonderful  and  inscrutable,  but  where  I  see  many  works  that  do  not  bear 
the  impress  of  Him,  I  cannot  help  keeping  my  "  if."  I  would  like  to  be  all  that  you  de- 
sire, love — if  I  may  take  the  license  yet  to  call  you  love — but  my  first  duty  here  is  not 
to  you,  and  certainly  you  are  not  so  narrow-minded  as  to  think  that  all  are  utterly 
lost  who  do  not  think  as  you  and  your  father  and  Frank  Donovan  think  on  religious 
matters.  Look  at  this  extract  from  a  letter  received  to-day  from  a  lady  correspond- 
ent :  "  If  Catholics  and  Protestants  will  only  unite,  and  not  think  it  necessary  to  fight 
over  religious  differences,  Ireland  would  ere  long  be  free  and  happy.  Strange  that 
the  children  of  one  Father  should  hate  one  another  (because  they  do  not  all  see  alike), 
and  anathematize  one  another.  The  one  true  religion  consists  in  loving  God  and  one 
another,  and  in  doing  to  othei'S  what  we  would  wish  done  to  ourselves.  This  is  the  pat- 
tern that  our  Master  set  us."  Yes,  that  is  the  one  true  religion;  but  to  be  "  reli- 
gious" and  act  differently,  is  what  I  despise.  Perhaps  you  take  to  heart  my  saying* 
to  you  that,  seeing  the  way  priests  in  Ireland  had  treated  me,  I  was  satisfied  to  leave 
myself  in  the  hands  of  God.  Perhaps  you  think  there  is  no  salvation  for  me  without 
begging  from  those  who  repudiate  me  for  my  love  of  country.  It  is  not  deemed  irrev- 
erent to  give  worldly  illustrations  in  matters  divine.  The  Government  of  England 
sends  a  Lord  Lieutenant  to  Ireland;  that  Lord  Lieutenant  imprisons  me,  yet  when 
you  seek  my  release  you  apply  not  to  him,  but  to  those  who  sent  him.  The  priests 
excommunicate  me.  Granted,  that  they  are  the  messengers  of  God :  certainly  all 
God's  power  and  mercy  is  not  in  their  keeping,  and  though  they,  as  the  Lord's  Lieu- 
tenant, will  not  release  me,  the  King  can.    Enough  on  this. 

Saturday  Morning. — I  fell  asleep  last  night  at  half-past  ten,  and  did  not  wake  till 
half-past  four  this  morning.  'Twas  the  best,  the  only  sleep,  I  may  say,  I  had  since  I 
saw  you.  Can  it  be  that  such  a  letter  as  you  think  would  trouble  me,  only  calms  me? 
— selfish  still  you  see ;  not  looking  to  your  troubles,  but  to  my  own  rest,  and  your  giv 
ing  me  your  confidence  contributes  to  this.  'Twas  hard  of  you  to  leave  me  thinking 
so  long,  that  perhaps  another  blow  was  given  to  you  in  your  father's  death.  If  you 
are  dilatory  any  more,  I  will  give  you  credit  for  attending  to  happier  correspondents, 
and  I  will  banish  you — from  my  dreams.  But  here  it  seems  I  am  powerless,  too,  for 
you  took  care  to  impress  yourself  too  deeply  in  the  mind.  And  I  have  strange  dreams 
about  you  sometimes.  Only  think  that  since  I  saw  you  I  dreamt  twice  that  you 
we-e  married  and  settled  down  in  the  North  of  Ireland  :  if  I  dream  it  a  third  time,  I 
don't  know  what  will  happen  to  ate.    One  thing  in  my  dreams  that  I  like  is  that  I 


358  C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

find  myself  always  faithful  to  you,  and  no  seductions  will  woo  me  away  from  you 
This  must  be  the  waking  image  appearing  in  sleep.  I  have  my  waking  dreams  about 
you,  too,  and  they  are  laden  with  more  anguish.  Twice  lately— and  the  last  occasion 
was  on  Wednesday,  when  you  were  writing  to  me— I  found  myself  exclaiming,  "  Oh, 
Mollis,"  and  I  vowed  a  v  'WthatI  would"  banish  3-011,  banish  you,"  not  think  of  you  at 
all  this  side  of  Christmas.  But  then  you  have  imposed  an  obligation  on  me  that 
makes  me  think  of  you  night  and  morning,  and  when  I  do  kneel  down  a  thought 
comes  into  my  head  that  brings  you  with  it.  I  forgot  once,  but  that  was  while  you 
were  here.  Ifoi-gotlast  night,  too,  till  it  was  ten  o'clock.  I  can  say  the  Lord's 
prayer  with  as  much  fervor  as  you  can,  every  word  of  it.  Wouldn't  that  save  me  with 
good  works,  if  I  could  work  them,  and  avoidance  of  injury  or  ill  will  to  fellow  mor- 
tals? "  Thy  will  he  done  "  seems  to  me  holier  than  to  ask  for  anything  which  might 
be  against  His  will.  I  don't  like  that  parable,  where  the  widow  is  represented  as  be- 
ing justified  on  account  of  the  annoyance  she  gave  the  magistrate,  and  I  will  not 
think  of  God's  mercy  m  a  parallel  light.  If  suffering  comes  to  me  ftvm  praying  that 
"  Thy  will  be  done,"  I  can  take  it;  and  you,  with  more  religion,  ought  too.  Neither  of 
us  like  suffering.  Christ,  even,  is  represented  as  having  prayed  that  His  would  pass 
away  from  Him.  Can  it  be  expected  that  we  can  have  a  stronger  manhood?  God, St. 
Austin  says,  "  hat'i  only  one  son  without  sin,  none  without  a  scourge.  "  Deus  unicum 
habet  filium  sine  pecalo,  nullum  sine  flagello."  Socrates  says  if  all  humanity  came 
together  to  throw  their  ills  in  a  heap,  and  then  take  share  and  share  alike,  none 
would  he  satisfied ;  and  Addison  has  a  paper  showing  the  discontent  of  each  after  a  sim- 
ilar sharing— each  anxious  to  tnrow  away  the  new  ill  and  pick  up  the  one  he  w;is 
used  to.  I  don't  know  that  you  or  I  would  have  much  reason  to  fear  discomfort  in 
such  a  case.  You  say  you  could  curse  fame.  Ah,  that's  all  very  fine.  I  could  say  it, 
too ;  but  what  we  want  is  to  be  happy,  and  that  is  what  no  mortal  ever  got  in  this 
world.  If  you  and  I  had  the  fruition  of  our  desires  to-day,  new  ills  would  be  engen- 
dered. I  would  be  no  sooner  outside  the  prison  gate  than  other  troubles  would 
assail  me,  and  the  realization  of  yours,  without  feelings  of  the  eternal  longing 
of  the  soul  for  something— if  nothing  else,  something  imaginary— would  be  just 
as  impossible.  I  wish  I  had  ten  sheets  to  reply  to  your  ten;  I  can't  "expand" 
here;  the  mind  is  imprisoned,  too,  and  though  it  be  shallow,  no  serene  sun  has 
shone  in  our  days  to  show  you  to  the  bottom  of  it.  How  I  should  like  to  take 
you  up  in  love  and  passion.  What  is  love?  rather  where  is  it  as  you  describe? 
Yes,  you  may  realize  it  in  a  father's  or  mother's  love,  but  the  love  that  sets 
the  world  mad,  where  is  it  without  passion  ?  'Tis  where  the  bee  is  without  his 
sting — in  cold,  icy  death.  And  you  told  me  once  at  Moore's  you  could  love  me  with 
this  love.  Where  is  it  now,  or  were  you  only  simulating,  or  is  it  now  that  you 
find  me  worthy  of  opening  your  mind  to  me?  That  you  married  me  to  make  "  the 
remnant  of  my  life  serene"  for  two,  three  or  twelve  months,  also  folds  up  a  mystery. 
What  was  in  me  ?  What  had  I  done  for  you  that  you  should  sacrifice  yourself  for  me? 
Well,  I  did  love  you — perhaps  I  had  better  add  "  passionately."  I  don't  know  do  you 
give  me  credit  for  that  even,  and  I  suppose  nothing  but  pity — "for  pity  is  akin  to 
love"— on  your  part,  granted  me  your  favors.  Tho'  you  mightn't  see  it, I  see  much  of 
unity  in  our  souls'  depths.  Here  was  I  hunting  my  barren  brain  to  get  an  illustration 
for  you  to  set  your  imaginary  troubles  at  rest  as  to  my  thinking  of  dead  loves,  by  ask- 
ing you  would  your  maternal  love  be  divided  by  having  another  child,  and  all  this 
time  you  understood  what  I  was  hunting  for  in  what  you  say  as  to  your  being  able  to 
"marry  one  hundred  husbands  one  at  a  time,"  and  not  wronging  either  by  undeserved 
coldness.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  feeling  represented  by  this  expression  is  only  a  com- 
mon one  to  human  nature — that  widows  and  widowers  dying  un-remarried  is  only  in 
the  order  of  old  maids  and  bachelors  dying  unmarried  for  tne  want  of  being  satisfac- 
torily mated.  You  believe  that  I  would  marry  again  if  I  trod  the  world  and  found  you 
dead  or  divorced?  Well,  now,  don't  be  so  sure  of  that.  In  the  harvest  of  my  years, 
with  the  reaper  perhaps  sharpening  his  sickle  for  me,  I  would  have  no  chance  of  im- 
proving on  you,  and  in  the  spirit  of  "  Excelsior"  I  could  not  be  happy  in  descending. 
Then  there  being  for  me  no  "  higher" — not  even  a  parallel  rung  on  the  ladder,  the  prob- 
ability is,  nay  the  certainty  is,  that  I  would  live  the  rest  of  my  days  a  virgin.  Unless, 
indeed,  that  it  was  by  divorce  }^ou  had  been  separated  from  me,  and  that  fortune 
offered  me  a  chance  by  visiting  you  with  the  misfortune  of  making  you  a  widow. 

The  lines  below,  beginning  "  My  Love,"  were  written  a  week  ago.  Then  I  got  this 
sheet  to  send  you  a  copy  of  that  stray  letter — the  Governor  thought  he  could  get  the 
original  suppressed  one  for  me,  but  up  to  yesterday  it  came  not;  and  then  I  told  him 
I  would  use  the  paper  to  answer  yours.  As  to  our  visit,  I  told  him  if  it  was  to  be  a 
private  one  I  would  have  it,  but  if  we  could  not  talk  without  others  being  pres- 
ent we  could  not  talk  on  what  we  desired,  and  I  would  not  ask  you  to  come:  he 
said  that  any  way  he  could  not  admit  you  without  an  order,  that  you  should  have  to 
apply  to  the  "Directors.  Do  so  and  keep  it — the  ojder — by  you.  that  you  may  be  able  at 


0^ Donovan  Rosso) s  Prison  Life,  359 

any  time  to  take  a  run  to  see  me,  if  the  wish  to  see  me  should  take  possession  of  you  at 
anytime  while  giving  your  readings  in  England.  I  am  to  see  Mr.  Fagan,  and  will  ask 
him  as  to  our  being  allowed  to  talk  privately,  as  at  the  Commission,  giving  my  parole 
not  to  pass  anything  to  you,  and  also  as  to  writing  that  letter  to  Mr.  Gladstone  re- 
ferred to  below.  But  don't  hope  anything  from  it.  I  asked  the  Commissioners  to 
publish  in  their  report  that  "  Mrs.  Moore  letter,"  and  the  reply  is  that  they  will  use 
their  own  discretion.  In  that  last  letter,  speaking  of  that  railway  occurrence— the 
Waterford  one— I  told  you  what  you  tell  me  now,  that  I  placed  no  trust  in  the  honor 
or  virtue  ot  men,  that  my  trust  was  in  yourself,  and  that  if  my  belief  in  Dr.  Cullen's 
politico-religious  teaching  was  as  strong  as  my  belief  in  your  ability  and  will  to 
maintain  and  defend  your  own  honor  and  mine,  he  would  not  be  thinking  of  hotter 
hells  for  me.  But  the"Ennis  affair,  Mollis,  was  worse.  Why  will  you  blame  me  for  be- 
ing solicitous  about  you,  your  safeguards  are  all  in  yourself  combined  with  the  ele- 
ments of  the  danger.  It  is  a  principal  one  to  see  that  danger,  and  to  recognize  it  as  ever 
present.  "Virtue,"  Dr.  Johnson  says  in  his  "Vanity  of  Human  Wishes,"  grows  dis- 
tressed at  scorn  of  danger,  and  scorn  of  her  remonstrant  calls,"  and 
"  Fired  with  contempt  she  quits  the  slippery  rein, 

And  pride  and  prudence  take  her  seat  in  vain, 

In  crowd  at  once  where  none  the  pass  defend, 

The  harmless  freedom  an<l  the  private  friend. 

The  guardians  yield  by  force  superior  plied, 

To  interest  prudence,  and  to  flattery  pride." 

Get  from  some  library  Burton's  "  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,"  and  Henry  Taylor's 
"Notes  on  Life."  Taylor  says:  "  Great  intellect,  according  to  the  ways  of  Provi- 
dence, almost  always  brings  with  it  great  infirmities,  and  it  is  certainly  exposed  to 
unusual  temptations  ;  for,  as  power  and  pre-eminence  lie  before  it,  so  ambition 
attends,  which,  whilst  it  determines  the  will  and  strengthens  the  activities,  inevitably 
weakens  the  moral  fabric."  Even  without  the  stimulant  of  self-love,  some  minds, 
owing  to  a  natural  redundancy  of  activity  and  excess  of  facility,  cannot  be  sufficiently 
passive  to  be  wise."  If,  however,  a  man  of  genius  be  fortunately  free  from  ambition, 
yet  there  is  another  enemy  that  will  commonly  lie  in  wait  for  his  wisdom — to  wit, 
great  capacity  for  enjoyment ;  this  generally  accompanies  geniuses,  and  is  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  all  trials  to  the  moral  and  spiritual  heart.  It  was  a  trial  too  severe  even  for 
Solomon,  "  whose  heart,  though  hrge,  beguiled  by  fair  idolatresses,  fell  to  idols  foul." 
A  great  capacity  of  suffering  belongs  to  genius  also,  and  it  has  been  observed  that  an 
alternation  of  joyfulness  and  dejection  is  quite  as  characteristic  of  the  person  of 
genius,  as  intensity  in  either  kind."  Sydney  Smith  says,  "Wit  is  dangerous,  elo- 
quence is  dangerous.  Everything  is  dangerous  that  has  efficacy  and  vigor  for  its 
characteristics.  Nothing  is  safe  but  mediocrity."  I  do  not  wonder  at  your  finding 
most  relief  when  most  distant  from  Chatham.  The  same  thoughts  culminate  in  me, 
when  I,  in  half  joke  and  half  earnest,  speak  the  word  "Divorce,"  granting  that 
Church,  State,  society,  and  yourself  above  all,  would  allow  this.  I  do  not  think  you 
would  be  happy  with  another  husband  while  I  lived.  Your  ills  might  be  only  imagin- 
ary, but  they  would  be  thorns,  nevertheless.  Suffering  is  what  the  world  will 
have  from  man  and  woman.  Yours  is  intense ;  and,  if  you  would  fly  from  it, 
the  world  would  not  be  charitable.  I  speak  of  this  word  because  it  would  bring 
more  relief  to  me  to  see  you  so,  honorably  may  I  say,  separated  from  me,  than 
to  hear  of  your  being  forgetful  of  yourself  or  of  me  in  the  whirl  of  dangers  that 
surround  you.  As  it  is,  I  fear  you  do  not  escape  the  evil  tongue.  If  they  say  you 
are  the  cause  of  my  giving  evidence  before  this  Commission,  it  is  not  true.  Have 
you  not  my  letter  "commanding"  you  to  come?  Your  love  for  me  is  not  what 
I  rely  on  for  your  safety ;  nor  your  pride  nor  your  religion  either.  I  rely 
on  all  together,  and  other  elements,  besides,  embodied  in  yourself.  Any  one 
alone  would  not  assure  me.  Even  in  religion  people  fall.  And  even  though  forgive- 
ness should  follow  in  such  a  case,  I  could  not  feel  easy  with  you  if  I  had  been  unfaith- 
ful. I  should  confess  to  you  before  I  c  >uld  have  full  free  happiness  with  you  after. 
Esteem  for  you,  honor,  self-respect,  domesticity  and  "passionate"  love,  with  other 
things  anart  from  religion,  would  go  far  with  me  to  make  me  true  to  you,  but  I  must 
close.  Read  Bacon's  essay  on  man  being  lightly  dealt  with,  and  woman  being  de- 
nounced as  infamous  for  love-slips,  and  his  reasons  why.  I  suppose  in  the  matter  of 
esteem  with  you  1  have  lost  it,  by  showing  myself  to  you  so  clearly  lately. 

Yours  fondly,  ROSSA. 

My  Love  :  The  foregoing  is  an  exact  copy  of  that  letter  which  went  astray.  The 
Governor  gave  me  the  original  suppressed  one  to  re-write  it.  This  day  week  you  paid 
me  that  running  visit,  and  I  am  most  anxious  since,  and  most  troubled  fearing  that 
some  other  ills  awaited  you  thro'  your  father's  illness.     I  am  dwelling  on  the  worst ; 


360  O' 'Donovan  JZossds  Prison  Life. 

this  is  bad,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  You  said  you  would  write  or  telegraph,  or  be  back 
in  a  week — the  week  is  past,  and  there  is  no  news  from  you.  If  I  could  learn  patience 
regarding  you,  as  I  must  and  can  learn  it  regarding  much  that  concerns  me,  I  would 
be  all  right,  but  I  am  a  bad  scholar  here,  and  I  fear  I  can  never  improve.  Do  you 
know  what  I  did  to-day?  Well,  I  shut  you  up  in  a  Nunnery ;  I  had  a  picture  of  you 
fixed  on  my  door,  and  I  took  it  down  and  put  it  out  of  sight  amongst  my  papers.  I 
don't  know  that  that  will  improve  matters,  for  the  image  impressed  on  the  mind  is 
more  life-like  and  cannot  be  so  easily  returned.  Having  my  papers  in  hands  I  looked 
for  that  letter  of  yours  about  the  Commission — "  Csesar  aut  nullus"  when  you  spoke, 
too,  of  being  strong  at  last.  Hike  to  read  those  things  when  I  feel  troubled  about  you, 
but  I  found  the  letter  was  gone,  so  that  you  must  have  taken  it  amongst  your  papers 
in  mistake,  as  I  meant  to  keep  it.  You  will,  however,  send  me  something  instead  of  it — 
I  don't  know  will  you  remember  all  you  said  you  would  send  me,  and  all  you  said  you 
would  write.  I  intended  at  our  final  interview  to  have  given  you  my  mind  upon  the 
matter  of  }*our  asking  me  to  write  what  I  wanted  on  paper  so  that  you  would  submit 
it  to  the  Government  after  the  Commission,  but  time  did  not  permit.  I  have  applied 
for  permission  to  write  to  Mr.  Gladstone.  If  I  am  allowed  to  do  so,  I  will  ask  him  for 
a  copy  of  the  report,  and  ask  him  for  permission  for  you  to  visit  me  while  you  are 
reading  in  England,  say  once  every  two  months  ;  that  you  would  take  your  English 
rests  at  your  Chatham  lodgings  and  have  liberty  to  visit  me  for  a  few  days  each  time 
sans  ceremonie.  A  wife  can  visit  a  political  prisoner  in  France  upon  showing  her 
marriage  certificate,  and  if,  as  you  think,  there  may  be  a  desire  to  make  a  distinction 
between  us  and  other  convicts,  this  may  be  granted ;  but  if  not  granted,  why,  we  must 
only  make  the  most  of  it.  I  think  very  often  of  that  fit  of  passion  you  got  into  about 
my  offer  of  divorce,  or  my  manner  of  offering  it,  and  I  am  asking  myself  could  I  have 
possibly  offered  it  in  any  way  that  would  make  it  agreeable  or  acceptable  to  you?  Tell 
me,  Love.  You  made  me  think  of  refractory  cells,  &c.  If  you  could  see  into  my 
thoughts  you  would  see  very  litle  reason  to  think  I  meant  to  insult  you,  and  if  you 
showed  your  mettle  to  all  who  would  insult  you,  as  you  showed  to  me  on  this  occasion, 
you  would  be  well  able  to  protect  yourself.  If  our  future  prison  interviews  are  to  be 
in  presence  and  hearing  of  officers,  I  do  not  see  the  use  of  your  incurring  expense  by 
.  frequent  visits.  There  is  little  use  in  my  "  looking  at  you  "  or  you  "  looking  at  me," 
when  our  mouths  must  be  closed  on  the  (non-political)  personal  matters  that  we  de- 
sire to  talk  most  about.  You  can  keep  writing  and  be  more  communicative  than  for- 
merly as  to  what  happens.  Never  think  that  anyone  is  to  see  your  letters  but  me, 
or,  if  you  must  think  differently,  think  that  they  are  priests,  who  will  not  talk  about 
our  exchange  of  confidences.  The  immense  sum  of  money  you  must  have  spent  since 
you  left  America  is  saddening — spent  to  no  purpose.  You  think  of  getting  me  out  of 
prison  some  time,  and  wouldn't  you  try  to  hoard  up  a  trifle  just  to  enable  us  to  start 
in  the  world,  if  fate  would  have  it  so.  You  say  you  will  never  live  with  me  again  as 
we  did  live  ;  I  do  not  blame  you  for  that.  Why  I  suggest  this  avaricious  thought  to 
you  is,  that,  having  something  in  view,  even  making  money  tends  to  engage  the  mind, 
and  withold  it  from  perhaps  worse  thoughts.  You  left  in  a  very  depressed  state  of 
mind.  All  the  "  ambition,"  and  "  pride,"  and  "  individuality  "  of  the  first  day  wasgone 
— gone  entirely.  Cannot  you  recover  them  now  that  we  are  separated.  I  was  about 
thinking  when  I  heard  you  speak  that  you  were  a  desperate  case,  and  that  even  with 
a  fair  field  I'd  have  something  to  do  to  win  the  old  place  in  your  affections.  But  I 
must  close,  and  will  do  so  by  telling  you  to  remember  what  you  read  to  me  one  even- 
ing out  of  your  favorite  author,  viz:  "  That  many  women  were  disposed  to  excuse 
improprieties,  rudeness  and  impertinence,  when  the  person  puts  his  conduct  to  the 
credit  of  his  inability  to  resist  the  attractions  of  the  lady." 

Yours,  ever  fondly  and  faithfully,  ROSSA. 

Lest  you  would  be  jealous  of  my  having  a  lady  correspondent,  I  must  tell  you  that 
the  lady  I  received  the  letter  from  is  the  Marchioness  of  Queensberry.  It  is  a  very 
pretty  letter.  Let  you  acknowledge  my  receipt  of  it,  and  tell  her  that  I  am  one  with 
her  in  the  religious  and  political  opinions  expressed  in  it.  I  do  not  believe  a  word  of 
your  saying  you  would  never  take  the  same  amount  of  trouble  for  me  or  for  any 
other  man  again.      Yours,  Mollis,  "  CARISS." 

P.  S.— You  might  send  me  Shawn's  letter  and  those  other  letters  you  promised 
me,  and  keep  writing  to  me  once  every  two  months,  and  avail  of  the  chance  of  writing 
a  reply  to  this  if  it  does  not  vex  you  terribly.  I  don't  intend  to  vex  you,  tho' your 
words  being  held  together  by  a  hair  of  your  head,  would,  I  suppose,  convey  that  they 
could  be  easily  broken.  I  thought  to  ask  you  for  that  curl  that  hung  in  your  fore- 
head, but  I  forgot  it.  Send  me  that  poem,  if  printed,  that  Imay  see  it;  and  if  you  give 
readings,  send  scraps  telling  about  them  to  the  Governor.  Do  these  things  or  get 
them  done.  If  I  do  not  get  them,  let  not  the  reason  be  that  you  did  not  give  the 
chance.    Keep  me  "  posted  "  as  to  yourself. 

Yours,  my  poor  woman,  ever  fondly  and  faithfully  too, 

I  musn't  call  .you  "  Love  "  any  more.  ROSSA, 


CHAPTER   XXI. 


THE  COMMISSION  OF  INQUIRY — LORD  DEVON  CHAIRMAN EXAMINATION 

OF  DIRECTORS,  GOVERNORS,  WARDERS  AND  PRISONERS OFFICIAL 

FALSEHOODS MR.  BRUCE,  THE  HON.  SECRETARY  OF  STATE,  A  CON- 
VICTED LIAR THE  COMMISSIONERS  AGREE  IN  THEIR  REPORT,  BUT 

THE  "  DOCTORS  DIFFER." 

The  Commissioners  appointed  to  conduct  the  inquiry  were  Lord 
Devon,  George  C.  Broderick,  Stephen  E.  De  Vere,  Doctor  Robert 
D.  Lyons  and  Doctor  E.  Headlam  Greenhow.  They  commenced 
their  sittings  on  the  24th  of  May  and  ended  on  the  20th  of  Septem- 
ber. They  held  sixty-three  meetings;  eight  of  which  were  in 
Chatham  Prison.  The  fourth  of  July  was  their  first  day  there, 
and  during  the  three  previous  days  Halpin,  McClure,  Mulleda, 
O'Connell  and  myself  were  kept  from  chapel,  and  kept  in  solitary 
confinement  lest  we  might  avail  of  our  ordinary  intercourse  to  com- 
bine in  making  up  a  case  against  the  authorities. 

I  have  their  statements  before  me  in  a  Blue  Book,  published  by 
the  Queen's  printers,  Eyre  &  Spotteswood,  London,  1870,  and  I  will 
leave  a  few  words  from  each  on  record,  to  show  that  though  they 
were  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  a  cold-blooded  enemy,  they  were  still 
men,  and  fearless  men  at  that,  trying  even  in  their  bonds  to  uphold 
the  standard  of  the  cause  for  which  they  suffered.  General  Halpin 
writes : 

"  To  the  Commissioners  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  treatment  of  Treason  Felons  in 
English  Frisons : 

"  Chatham  Prison,  July  20,  '72. 

"  Gentlemen:  *  *  *  From  my  knowledge  of  the  capacity  of  some  of  the  wit- 
nesses that  should,  and  very  likely  will,  be  examined  b}r  the  Commissioners  to  make 
false  reports  and  lying  statements  in  reference  to  the  class  of  prisoners  whose  treat- 
ment is  to  be  inquired  into,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  such  witnesses  will  not 
tell  the  truth  except  under  oath  and  through  a  strict  cross-exam' nation.    *     *     *     * 

"  I  did  not  irom  the  beginning  believe  that  the  Government  would  appoint  a  Com- 
mission to  prove  its  own  public  statements  untrue,  or  that  it  could  afford  such  an  in- 
vestigation as  would  unveil  the  facts  and  lay  the  official  sores  open  to  public  view, 
and  1  find  the  action  of  the  State  authorities,  and  the  Commissioners  since  their  ap- 
pointment, justify  this  conclusion.  First,  the  Commission  is  to  be  secret,  and  acting 
in  the  dark,  refusing  not  only  the  representatives  of  the  press  admission,  but  even 
denying  counsel  to  act  on  the  part  of  the  prisoner.  Every  artifice  that  cunning  could 
suggest  has  been  resorted  to  to  keep  us  in  the  dark,  and  keep  us  from  even  knowing 
the  cause  of  this  inquiry.     ******************* 

"  To  comment  on  such  acts  would  be  a  waste  of  time.  The  Commissioners  give  me 
permission  to  wirte  to  my  friends  on  the  subject  of  the  Commission.  Mr.  Bruce 
takes  that  permission  away.    The  Commissioners  tell  me  I  can  have  the  assistance  of 


362  0' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

a  friend  in  making  up  my  statement.  Mr.  Bruce  says  I  cannot.  What  a  mockery !  w^at 
a  sham  is  this  whitewashing  Commission,  appointed  by  the  Home  Secretary  to  cover 
up  his  falsehoods  and  his  frauds  !  The  orders  of  the  Commission,  as  well  as  those 
of  the  Home  Secretary,  are  plainly  meant  for  the  public  eye.  They  are  intended  to 
deceive;  they  pretend  to  confer  rights  in  public  which  are  taken  away  in  private. 
Perfidy  has  lbng  been  the  characteristic  of  England's  rulers,  and  it  appears  they  have 
no  intention  of  shaking  it  off.    I  am,  gentlemen,  respectfully, 

WM.  G.  HALPIN." 

John  McClure,  born  in  America,  concludes  in  this  manner : 

"  Gentlemen:  *  *  *  I  feel  compelled,  injustice  to  myself,  to  decline  to  take  a 
part  in  the  present  proceedings,  in  consequence  of  experiencing  a  want  of  confidence 
in  the  impartiality  and  completeness  of  the  present  investigation.  I  may,  I  think, 
with  propriety,  add  here,  that  a  torturing  and  living  death,  with  every  circumstance 
specially  adapted  to  render  life  miserable,  has  been  an  alternative  which  the  pubic 
and  my  Government  were  led  to  believe  was  a  singular  act  of  clemency,when,inl867, 
the  Government  of  England  awarded  penal  servitude  for  life  in  exchange  for  an  un- 
natural but  sneedv  death. 

"  I  regret  to  be  obliged  to  say  that  three  years  experience  of  this  merciful  alter- 
native gives  me  every  reason  to  view  that  apparent  act  of  clemency  in  a  totally  differ- 
ent light,  and  strongly  inclines  me  to  look  upon  a  power  that  could  thus  torture  me  as 
being 

"  Too  '  merciful'  in  public  gaze  to  take  our  lives  away, 
Too  anxious  here  to  plant  in  us  the  seed  of  life's  decay." 

"  There  has  been  a  sad  want  of  that  magnanimity  which  is  so  much  admired  in, 
and  expected  from,  a  generous  and  humane  victor,  towards  a  fallen  adversary.  To 
treat  me  as  if  I  had  been  guilty  of  some  degrading  or  ignominious  crime  is  hardly  de- 
SGrvGd. 

"  Such  a  proceedingbut  degrades  the  power  that  can  inflict  on  honorable  men  the 
infamous  punishments  allotted  to  the  thief  and  vile  outcasts  of  society. 

JOHN  McCLUEE." 

John  Devoy  says : 

"Gentlemen:  *  *  *  Five  years  bitter  experience,  to  say  nothing  of  the  record 
of  seven  hundred  more,  have  made  me  look  with  sucpicion  on  everything  emanating 
from  the  quarter  in  winch  your  Commission  had  its  origin.  *  *  *  In  conclusion,  I 
will  say  that  I  have  never  asked  for  an  inquiry,  because  I  believed  that  a  complete  and 
impartial  one  would  not  be  granted,  and  that  if  friends  of  mine,  or  of  the  other  pris- 
oners, did  ask,  it  was  for  a  public  one." 

Henry  Shaw  (Mulleda)  says: 

Gentlemen:  *  *  *  I — after  calm,  careful  and  deliberate  consideration — came 
to  the  conclusion  that  I  could  not,  consistently  with  the  duty  which  I  owe  to  myself, 
do  otherwise  than  decline  to  make  any  statement.  *  *  *  I  assure  you  that  I  am  ac- 
tuated solely  by  the  conviction  that,  I  should  be  but  aiding  and  abetting  a  delusion  in 
acting  otherwise,  as  I  am  convinced  that  nothing  but  a  full,  fair  and  public  inquiry 
will  ever  succeed  in  eliciting  the  whole  truth.'' 

When  I  look  over  the  proceedings  of  the  Commissioners  at  Port- 
land Prison,  I  find  the  action  taken  by  the  prisoners  there  was  some- 
what similar  to  ours.  All  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
them.  Governor  Clifton  is  examined,  and  asked  what  each  of  the 
prisoners  said  when  he  offered  them  paper  to  make  statements. 

Question  Number  2209.— Lord  Devon— What  did;  George  Brown  say  ?— This  prison- 
er declined  to  take  the  paper  I  offered  him,  saying,"  "  I  do  not  want  to  say  anything; 
want  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

"2213. Did  Luby  make   any  statement? — He  asked  if  the  Earl  of  Devon  was 

the  same  nobleman  who  was  on  the  Land  Commission  in  Ireland.  I  said,  '  I  believe  he 
s  the  same  nobleman,'  when  the  prisoner  replied  that  Dan  O'Connell  said  at  the  time 
r  was  like  ajurv  of  butchers  trying  ;t  sheep.'  " 

«  2216. D:d  J  -Uif  O'Leary  make  an  v  statement? — He  declined  to  receive  any  paper, 

saving  that  they  mi^ut  have  spared  themselves  all  the  trouble,  as  he  did  not  intend  to 
make  any  statement." 


(J Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  363 

"  2217.— Did  Michael  Sheehy  mnke  any  statement? — The  prisoner  declined  to  re- 
ceive any  paper,  and  stated  that  while  in  British  pens  he  would  make  no  statement 
'  I  have  been  treated  badly,  and  I  have  plenty  of  complaints  to  make.  Dr.  Blaker 
knows  the  state  of  my  health.  If  there  are  Irishmen  coming  over  to  sit  on  this  Com- 
mission, they  are  in  the  pay  of  the  British  Government.'  " 

"  2218. — Did  Mortimer  Shea  aZias  Mori  arty  make  any  statement? — This  prisoner  de- 
clined to  receive  any  paper,  saying  that  he  did  not  wish  to  have  any  connexion  with 
the  Commission." 

"  2219. — Did  Edward  St.  Clair  make  any  statement? — This  prisoner  declined  to  re- 
ceive any  paper,  saying  that  he  did  not  wish  to  have  any  connexion  with  the  Commis- 
sion."' 

"2220. — Did  John  McCafferty  say  any  thing? — McCafferty — this  prisoner  declined 
to  receive  any  paper,  or  to  make  any  statement  until  he  goes  outside,  when  he  will  do 
it  upon  oath.  He  further  stated  that  he  would  not  go  before  the  Commission  unless  by 
force." 

"2223.— Did  Patrick  Walsh  make  any  statement? — This  prisoner  declined  to  take  any 
paper,  and  when  informed  that  he  would  not  be  sent  out  to  work  during  the  three  days, 
said,  '  I  wish  they  were  going  to  stay  away.  If  they  are  my  countrymen,  they  are 
humbugs  '" 

"  2227 At  the  same  time  that  you  asked  the  prisoners  those  questions  to  which 

they  gave  the  replies  that  you  have  now  stated,  were  they  singly  brought  before  you? 
They  were,  my  lord." 

The  Commissioners  do  not  seem  at  all  satisfied  with  this  state  of 
things,  and  sending  for  John  O'Leary,  the  Chairman  asks  him : 

"  2542. — Do  you  wish  to  make  a  statement  to  the  Commission  ? — Yes,  I  wish  to  say 
I  asked  for  no  Commission,  I  wished  for  no  Commission,  and,  when  I  heard  some  time 
ago  that  some  Commissioners  were  appointed  I  fully  made  up  my  mind  to  make  no 
statement  of  grievances  to  any  body  of  men  that  would  be  sent  down ;  and  as  to 
anything  that  I  have  to  say  about  my  treatment  in  prison,  whataver  I  do  say,  I  in- 
tend fo  take  my  own  time  and  place  for  saying.  *********  It  would 
seem  that  what  you  want  to  know  is,  whether  we  have  been  subject  to  any  hard- 
ships except  those  incident  to  persons  sentenced  to  penal  servitude.  I  may  com- 
plain that  we  have  been  treated  no  worse  than  murderers  and  thieves.  It  appears 
to  me  that  it  is  at  least  an  exceedingly  consistent  proceeding  on  the  part  of  the  au- 
thor of  the  celebrated  letters  to  Lord  Aberdeen  to  be  sent  down  here." 

"  2544. — Do  you  wish  to  make  any  statement  on  those  points? — No,  not  to  you  ;  not 
that  you  should  for  a  moment  be  under  any  delusion  of  my  having  more  serious 
reason.  You  must,  in  fact,  take  us  to  be  an  extraordinary  humble-minded  class  of 
men,  to  think  we  would  make  complaints." 

"  2551. — It  appears  to  me,  to  ask  a  person  of  my  political  principles  whether  1  got 
punished,  would  be  like  an  Oliver  Twist  kind  of  business — asking  for  more  porridge." 

At  the  Invalid  Convict  Prison,  in  Woking,  Denis  Dowling  Mulcahy  has  a  long  ar- 
gument with  the  Commissioners.  He  requires  all  the  conditions  that  are  necessary 
to  a  fair  and  impartial  inquiry,  and,  failing  to  get  them,  he  refuses  to  go  into  his  case. 

"6489. — Did  I  understand  your  lordship  to  say  that  the  report  of  Messrs.  Pollock 
&  Knox  would  not  be  allowed  ? 

"  6490. — It  will  not. — Well,  my  lord,  I  must  say  that  I  think  that  a  very  important 
document,  for  if  I  gave  certain  evidence  1o  them  which  they  have  suppressed;  I 
should  think  it  very  important  and  requisite  to  understand  that." 

"  6491. — That  is  no  part  of  our  inquiry. — But  I  have  learned  from  my  friends  that 
that  report  has  been  made  use  of  repeatedly  by  the  Home  Secretary.  I  wish  to  show 
that  I  have  stated  many  important  matters  to  those  Commissioners  that  were  not 
stated  in  that  report,  and  that  report  was  used  as  evidence  against  us  to  prove  that 
we  were  untruthful." 

"  6493. — We  cannot  go  into  that. — Very  good,  my  lord." 

"6494. — But  you  can  go  into  anything  that  you  think  material  in  the  absence  of 
that  report. — Yes,  but  if  f  had  the  report  of  Messrs.  Pollock  &  Knox,  I  could  show  that 
I  stated  to  them  two  or  three  very  important  facts  with  regard  to  the  bread  and 
water,  and  the  haemoptysis,  and  being  sent  to  Dartmoor  when  it  was  Known,  as  I  can 
show  from  the  very  documents  [  have  here  now,  which  have  come  from  the  prison 
books,  and  which  are  the  most  meagre  abstracts  that  they  could  make,  that  while  I 
suffered  from  haemoptysis  I  was  sent  to  the  quarries." 

"8209. — Chairman— I  think  J  must  tell  you,  Mulcahy,  that  you  have  received  all 
the  papers  which,  under  the  sanction  of  superior  authority,  it  is  decided  are  to  be 
given  to  you.— Very  good,  my  lord;  I  consider  that  insufficient  to  prove  the  charges, 


364  O'* Donovan  Rossa?§  Prison  Life. 

and  that  the  powers  of  the  Commission  are  too  limited  to  enable  me  to  substantiate 
my  case." 

I  myself  had  a  long  statement  for  the  Commissioners.  I  will  not  reproduce  the 
whole  or  it  here,  as  it  would  be  only  repeating  many  things  1  have  previously  stated. 
In  its  preparation  I  took  good  care  not  to  make  any  complaints  regarding  anything  I 
suffered.  One  of  the  objects  of  the  Commission  was  to  inquire  if  we  were  treated 
"  exceptionally,"  and  I  laid  points  and  particulars  of  the  treatment  before  them,  leav- 
ing them  to  judge  whether  or  not  my  examination  thereon  was  pertinent  to  their 
business.    If  it  was,  I  was  their  humble  servant ;  if  it  was  not,  I  had  nothing  to  say. 

This  is  how  I  met  them: 

"  To  the  Commissioners  op  Inquiry  : 

"  Quod  tibi  fieri  non  vis  alteri  nefeceris." 

Chatham  Prison,  June  30,  '70. 

Gentlemen:  If  you  were  prisoners  in  France,  under  Napoleon  the  Third,  as  you 
might  be  if  William  the  Conqueror  and  his  successors  had  ruled  England  from  France, 
instead  of  becoming  English,  and  if  you  had  been  treated  as  I  have  been,  and  had 
been  somewhat  misrepresented  and  belied;  and,  after  having  had  experience  of  one 
Commission  of  Inquiry  being  asham,  if  you  learned  that  another  was  coming  on,  you 
would  be  able  to  understand  why  I  commence  with  the  above  quotation. 

Taking  it  for  granted  that  you  may  be  determined  to  elicit  the  whole  truth,  I  have 
reasons  to  fear  you  cannot  succeed,  and  here  is  one  x>f  them:  I  was  thirty -five  con- 
secutive days  in  this  prison  with  my  hands  tied  behind  my  back.  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  this  putting  of  me  in  irons  was  by  order  of  the  Board  of  Directors. 
Well,  the  story  one  way  or  another  gets  into  the  world;  and  though  it  is  in  accord- 
ance with  prison  "  discipline,"  the  Government  deem  it  proper  to  contradict  it,  and 
the  Board  of  Directors  who  ordered  the  punishment,  do  actually,  through  one  of  their 
own  body,  hold  an  inquiry  at  this  prison  to  prove  that  no  such  punishment  took  place. 
*  *  *  Mr.  Gladstone  is  at  the  head  of  the  English  Government  at  present.  He  is  a 
writer  as  well  as  a  statesman,  and,  if  my  memory  serves  me  right,  he  has  in  some 
book  written  that  in  any  nation  or  institution  where  publicity  is  guarded  against  and 
secrecy  provided  for,  abuses  must  necessarily  exist. 

My  letters  are  suppressed  because  I  speak  of  my  treatment,  and  the  British  Gov- 
ernment defame  my  character  by  saying  that  it  is  because  I  have  told  lies  in  them. 
I  have  asked  you  to  call  for  those  leters  to  question  me  on  them,  and  I  hope  you  will 
do  so. 

"  Crimine  ab  uno  disce  omnes." 

Mr.  Gladstone,  in  speaking  of  the  treatment  of  prisoners  at  Naples,  writes  these 
words  :  but  where  is  the  man  coming  to  see  an  English  prison.can  speak  to  an  English 
prisoner  and  ask  him  for  information  as  to  the  treatment?  That  man  is  not  to  be  found. 
The  visitor  will  find  everything  in  the  nicest  apple-pie  order,  and,  as  Mr.  Gladstone  saw 
in  Naples,  he  will  see  excellent  rules  and  regulations  hung  up  in  every  corner;  he  will 
see  a  Bible  in  every  cell,  even  in  the  one  where  the  victim  is  chained  and  being 
starved;  and  if  he  comes  on  a  Sunday  he  will  see  1,500  men  parading  for  chapel, 
each  with  a  Bible  and  prayer-book  exposed  to  view.  What  wonder  if  he  says  to  him- 
self, "Oh!  this  is  the  paradise  of  saints  ;"  but  he  little  knows  the  curses  that  are 
burning,  the  hell  that  is  seething  under  this  phylactery  face  which  discipline  makes 
her  votaries  assume,  at  the  peril  of  losing  their  daily  bread.  If  it  be  a  digression  to 
speak  here  of  what  does  not  tend  to  the  reformation  of  these  English  children  of  mis- 
fortune, I  will,  for  an  excuse,  again  borrow  the  words  of  another,  and  say,  "  Homo 
sum,  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum puto." 

I  do  not  see  any  rule  which  authorizes  discipline  to  deprive  a  man  of  the  use  of 
the  Bible  for  six  months,  and  yet  this  sentence  was  passed  on  me. 

I  do  not  see  anything  in  the  rules  to  warrant  the  authorities  stripping  me  naked 
once  a  day  for  three  or  four  months,  and  yet  discipline  does  it. 

I  also  fail  to  see  any  rule  that  obliges  me  to  bathe  in  water  in  which  other  men 
had  bathed  and  washed,  and  this  I  had  to  do  often. 

When  I  applied  to  the  Director,  Captain  Gambier,  for  a  sufficiency  of  coarse  bread, 
and  remarked  that  that  was  what  England  would  not  refuse  as  a  right  to  the  State 
prisoner  of  any  other  country,  he  refused  it,  with  the  observation  that  "  England  has 
no  State  prisoners  now-a-days."  England  may  not  like  to  have  the  odium  that 
attaches  to  any  country  having  State  prisoners,  and  she  may  try  to  get  rid  of  it  by 
labelling  us  as  thieves  and  murderers.  She  would  have  her  vengeance  and  her 
Christian  character  at  the  same  time,  and  she  hopes  you  will  assist  ber.  I  can  only 
hope  you  will  be  just. 

As  to  exceptional  treatment,  might  I  not  ask,  how  is  it  explained  that  I  have  been 
separated  from  the  rest  of  the  Irish  prisoners  and  sent  to  Chatham,  under  the  oir- 


0' Donovan  Mossa's  Prison  Life.  365 

cumstances  I  state  ?  How  is  it  explained  that  in  Portland  I  have  been  separated  from 
the  Irish  prisoners  and  sent  among  a  gang  of  English  prisoners?  How  is  it  explained 
that,  while  in  Portland,  the  restof  the  treason-felony  prisoners  working  in  mid-winter 
in  a  shed,  I  was  placed  outside  the  shed,  and  prevented  from  having  that  little  shel- 
ter from  the  poison-laden  blast  which  the  others  had?  How  is  it  explained  that, 
when  under  "  report"  the  same  day  with  some  of  my  fellow-prisoners,  on  a  charge  of 
talking  while  at  work,  they  got  twenty-four  hours  on  bread  and  water,  and  I  got 
seventy -two  hours  on  bread,  with  fourteen  days'  solitary  confinement  on  penal  class- 
diet?  *******    I  remain,  gentlemen,  yours  respectfully, 

JER.  O'DONOVAN"  EOSSA. 

Mr.  William  Pitt  Butts,  Governor  of  Chatham  Prison,  recalled  : 

6589. — Chairman — Have  you  a  communication  to  make,  Mr.  Butts? — Yes,   my 
lord.    Rossa  has  just  written  that,  and  sends  it  to  vou. 
6590. — The  Chairman  read  the  following  letter  : 

"  To  the  Commissioners  of  Inquiry  : 

"  Chatham  Prison,  July  19th,  1870. 

"Gentlemen:  The  Secretary  of  State  knows  that  since  you  were  here  I  applied 
for  a  copy  of  Messrs.  Knox  and"  Pollock's  report,  and  he  leaves  my  application  unat- 
tended to  as  yet.  I  have  been  shown  by  my  wife  an  official  statement  emanating  from 
that  honorable  gentleman,  and  I  very  reluctantly  say  there  is  something  wrong  in 
every  paragraph  of  it.  He  says  my  letters  to  my  wife  were  suppressed  because  they 
contained  falsehoods.  I  present  to  you  six  of  these  letters ;  I  undertake  to  show  you 
they  do  not  contain  a  single  falsehood;  and,  with  all  due  respect,  I  ask  you  to  invite 
the  Secretary  of  State  to  be  present.  Isubmit  to  you  four  or  five  printed  letters- 
printed  as  from  me.  I  write  my  name  on  each,  to  acknowledge  the  authorship,  and  I 
undertake  to  show  you  that  they  contain  no  falsehood. 

"  I  remain,  gentlemen,  vours  verv  obediently, 

"  JER.  0"DONO  VAN^  ROSSA. 

"  P.  S.— I  desire  that  all  witnesses  at  the  inquiry  be  examined  on  oath." 

7067. — Chairman— You  stated,  just  now,  that  three  letters  written  by  the  pris- 
oner, Hdpin,  to  Mr.  Motley,  Mr.  J.  F.  O'Donnell  and  Mr.  Callan,  were  suppressed  by 
order  of  Secretary  of  State? — They  were,  my  lord. 

7068.— Are  you  in  possession  of  the  Secretary  of  State's  letter  announcing  that 
they  were  to  be  suppressed  ? — I  am. 

Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa  examined  : 

4901.— Chairman— We  are  a  Commission,  I  should  explain  to  you,  appointed  by 
Government,  but  entirely  independent  of  the  Government,  for  the  purpose  of  inquir- 
ing into  the  treatment  of  yourself  and  the  other  prisoners  under  the  treason-fel<>ny 
act,  at  present  confined  in  prisons  in  England.  I  had  better  name  for  you  the  Com- 
missioners first:  Thisis  Dr.  Greenhow;  this  is  Mr.  De  Vere;  this  is  Dr.  Lyons;  this 
is  Mr.  Brodenck,  and  I  am  the  Chairman,  Lord  Devon.  Our  object  is  to  receive,  in 
the  fullest  and  freest  way,  from  any  one  of  the  prisoners  into  whose  case  we  are  going 
to  inquire,  any  statement,  orally  or  in  writing,  or  both,  which  you  may  wish  to  sub- 
mit. The  statement  will  be  made  to  us  in  a  private  room,  and  out  of  the  hearing  of 
any  person  connected  with  the  prison,  and,  whatever  the  statement  may  be,  it  will 
in  no  way  prejudice  the  future  position  of  the  prisoner  as  regards  the  prison  in 
which  he  is.     He  will  be  none  the  worse  for  it  in  any  way. 

4907 Do  you  wish  to  defer  your  examination  until  you  have  an  opportunity  of 

conferring  with  your  wife,  or  other  friends,  to  aid  vou  in  preparing  your  statement, 
written  or  oral,  to  be  laid  before  this  Commission?— Well,  I  have  written  something, 
and  I  am  prepared  to  give  it  up  to  you ;  and  I  do  not  know  whether  it  would  be  too 
much  delay,  but  if  you  would  look  over  it  I  then  would  be  prepared  to  answer  any 
questions  you  put  to  me,  and  be  ready,  when  you  come  again,  to  be  examined  fur- 
ther. 

4913— But  we  think  it  would  be  better  now  not  to  enter  on  your  examination. 
If  you,  after  seeing  your  wife,  wish  to  make  a  suppl3mentary  statement,  it  can  be  put 
in  an  envelope  and  handed  to  the  Governor,  who  will  hand  it  to  us.— I  have  no  objec- 
tion, my  lord,  he  should  get  a  copy  to  send  to  the  Director,  or  Secretary  of  State,  or 
any  others  you  wish. 

4914 Your  examination  being  deferred  to  the  19th,  is  there  any  matter  that 

vou  wish  to  state  to  us  now  before  you  w  thd~:iw  ?  -Well,  my  lord,  you  said  that  any- 
thing I  would  say  would  not  prejudice  me  in  tuture. 


366  0^ Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life. 

4915. — No.— Well,  I  have  some  experience  of  prison  life,  and  I  do  not  know  how-^ 
though  you  may  be  very  much  inclined  to  protect  me — how  you  could,  if  the  author, 
ities  desired  to  keep  punishing  me  ;  for  they  can  get  thousands  of  excuses  to  pu»- 
ish  me  and  say  that  it  is  a  breach  of  discipline  ;  and  I  do  not  know  how  you  would  be 
able  to  learn  it,  or  become  aware  of  it. 

4929. — Dr.  Lyons — Is  it  your  impression  that  you  were  punished  with  bread  and 
water  in  consequence  of  having  given  evidence  before  Messrs.  Knox  and  Pollock? — 1 
could  not  say,  Dr.  Lyons. 

4931. — Mr.  Broderick — You  were  actually  placed  on  bread  and  water  in  a  dark 
cell  ? — Yes,  in  a  darkened  cell ;  not  entirely  dark.  On  those  gentlemen  coming  to 
make  inquiry,  they  said  to  me,  "We  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  prison  disci- 
pline." And  when  I  was  laying  before  them  the  matters  that  concerned  me,  they 
said,  "That  comes  under  prison  discipline,  and  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  it." 
Coming  to  make  an  inquiry  under  such  circumstances  does  not  appear  honest. 

Captain  Stopford  was  one  of  the  Prison  Directors,  and  when  the  chaining  of  me 
for  thirty-five  days  was  questioned,  he  was  sent  down  to  Chatham  to  doctor  up  a  re- 
port for  the  Secretary  of  State.  He  got  the  very  men  who  tied  me  day  after  day  to 
deny  having  done  so. 

He  says :  "  The  books  are  examined,  and  1  find  only  one  entry  of  the  prisoner 
being  handcuffed  behind,  and  that  was  on  the  17th  of  June,  1868." 

Lord  Devon,  examining  me,  asks  : 

Question  No.  7155. — Having  read  that,  and  observed  what  was  stated  there,  do  you 
still  remain  of  opinion,  and  are  you  prepared  to  tell  us  that  it  was  for  thirty-five 
days? — Yes,  my  lord. 

7156. — Mr.  De  Vere — And  that  those  days  were  following  one  another? — Yes,  Mr. 
De  Vere. 

7157. — Dr.  Lyons — Why  do  you  remember  so  distinctly  that  the  number  of  days 
was  thirty -five? — I  fixed  them  in  my  memory  at  the  time,  and  the  suffering  that  I  en- 
dured, and  the  cuts  on  my  hands  and  everything  made  a  very  vivid  impression  on  my 
memory  ;  and,  my  lord,  at  the  expiration  of  those  thirty -five  days,  twenty-eight  days 
bread  and  water  commenced.  The  date  of  the  commencement  of  the  bread  and  water 
must  be  in  the  prison  bonks,  and  from  the  time  I  committed  the  offence  until  I  got  the 
bread  and  water,  until  the  Directer's  order  was  read  for  my  punishment,  I  was  in 
irons  all  the  time. 

7158. — After  the  thirty-five  days  you  were  put  on  bread  and  water  ? — Yes,  Mr. 
Lyon^. 

7183. — Whom  else  do  you  refer  to?— Another  day  I  distinct!}'  recollect  Father 
O'Sullivan  coming  in,  and  from  the  blood  that  had  trickled  from  the  marks  on  my 
wrists,  I  had  written  on  the  door,  "  Might  I  not  cry  out '  blood  for  blood.'  " 

7197. — Did  you  suffer  much  from  the  cuts  or  scrapes? — No;  they  did  not  fester. 
I  did  not  care  much  for  cuts  ;  only  the  animus  that  I  thought  was  displayed  in  treat- 
ing me  so. 

7220. — Mr.  Broderick — I  see  that  you  say  in  the  latter  part  of  your  statement  that 
shortly  before  this  offence  was  committed,  the  Governor  came  to  you  in  your  cell,  and 
on  your  refusing  to  salute  him,  that  he  used  the  expression,  "  I  treat  you  with  con- 
tempt!  " — That  was  not  in  the  cell,  sir.  I  was  summoned;  I  was  taken  before  him 
for  refusing  to  salute  him. 

7222. — What  passed  upon  that  occasion  when  you  were  taken  before  him  on  this 
charge? — I  said  that  I  did  not  mean  to  be  disrespectful  towards  him,  or  any  officer  of 
the  prison,  but  that  I  could  not  conscientiously  be  paying  salaams  to  authorities  that 
were  assassinating  me. 

7223. — Chairman — That  you  would  not  pay  salaams  to  authorities  that  were 
assassinating  you? — Yes,  to  authorities  that  were  assassinating  me.  I  used  the  word 
"  assassinating."  At  the  same  time,  I  said  it  was  not  through  disrespect  to  him,  and 
he  said,  "  I  treat  you  with  contempt !  " 

7224. — Mr.  Broderick — You  are  quite  sure  that  he  used  the  expression,  "  I  treat 
you  with  contempt?" — I  nm  quite  sure  he  did. 

7226.— Mr.  Broderick — What  happened  after  that? — I  thought  he  would  treat  me 
with  contempt,  as  he  sa;d,  but  he  came  after  that  to  my  cell,  and  I  just  remained  in 
the  same  position.  Whatever  position  I  was  in  when  be  came  I  remained  in  it,  and 
for  doing  so  I  was  again  ciied  before  h  m  for  highly  insubordinate  conduct  and  treat- 
ing him  with  disrespect,  and  he  gnve  me  two  days'  bread  and  water  for  that,  after 
saying  he  would  treat  me  with  contempt.  That  was  not  treating  me  with  contempt. 
So  when  the  officers  cnme  agnin  and  chIW  on  me  to  salute  the  Governor,  I  committed 
the  offence  that  is  stated. 

7227.— Had  the  officers,  before  you  committed  that  offence,  used  violence  to  bring 


0'*Do7iovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life.  367 

your  hands  into  the  attitude  of  "  attention?"    Had  they  attempted  to  make  you  use 
the  salaam? — Yes,  they  had;  three  of  them,  before  the  Governor  in  his  office. 

7230.— Chairman— What  did  the  officers  do?— One  of  the  officers,  Allison,  came 
behind  me  and  caught  me ;  another  officer  came  to  this  hand,  and  another  to  this 
hand,  and  kept  them  down.  I  went  to  the  Governor  and  first  stood  this  way  (standing 
upright)  before  him,  and  that  was  "  highly  eon'.umacious." 

7247. — When  Captain  Du  Cane  came  to  the  prison  during  that  Hme,  as  you  inform 
us  that  he  did,  did  you  not  appeal  to  him  against  that  sentence? — I  d:d  not,  sir;  oh, 
no,  I  did  not;  I  knew  I  had  committed  the  offence,  and  I  took  the  punishment  without 
making  any  appeal  against  it. 

7248. — Do  you  remember  on  what  account  it  was  that  you  did  come  before  him 
on  that  occasion? — I  came  before  him.  I  was  charged  with  this  offence.  He  read  out 
the  offence  for  me,  and  he  asked  me  what  I  had  to  say.  I  said  I  had  nothing  to  say; 
that  I  committed  it.  "  Well,"  says  he,  "  It  is  getting  worse,  instead  of  better,  you  are. 
It  is  very  brutal  conduct."  "  It  is  just  a  reflex,"  said  I,  "  of  the  treatment  I  received." 
I  was  sent  back  to  my  cell. 

7250. — And  you  never  expressed  a  wish  to  petition  the  Secretary  of  State  on  the 
subject? — No,  sir. 

7268. — Between  the  day  when  you  threwthe  water  in  the  Governor's  face,  and 
the  day  that  you  saw  Captain  Du  Cane — which  I  see  was  the  first  of  July — d:d  you 
ever  refuse  to  put  on  3-our  jacket? — Yes. 

7269. — Did  you  on  several  occasions  refuse  to  do  so  ? — Yes. 

7270. — Did  you  tell  the  warder  that  he  might  do  it  himself  ?— Yes  :  "  You  can  put 
it  on,  officer."  I  felt  uneasy  with  the  jacket  on,  and  wanted  to  keep  it  off.  I  said, 
"You  can  put  it  on  if  you  wish  ;  1  have  more  freedom  without  it." 

7271. — That  occurred  four  days.  0  1  the  24th  of  June  .you  refused  to  put  on  your 
jacket,  and  you  did  the  same  on  the  25th,  26th,  27th  and  29th  of  June,  according  to 
this  record? — That  wiil  corroborate  that  I  had  the  irons  on  those  days. 

7282. — Are  you  quite  sure  that  j  ou  were  in  irons  during  thirty -five  days  ? — I  am 
quite  sure. 

7283. — How  do  you  know  that  it  was  thirty-five  dajTs  ? — I  counted  every  day  of 
them  at  the  time,  and  they  fixed  themselves  in  my  memory. 

7284. — Are  you  quite  sure  that  during  the  whole  of  that  thirty-five  days  you  were 
on  light-labor  diet? — Yes,  sir,  I  am. 

7285  — You  think  your  memory  does  not  deceive  you  about  it  ? — Not  in  the  least. 

7286. — And  during  those  twenty-eight  days  that  you  were  on  bread  and  water  you 
were  not  in  irons  at  all  ? — N«>,  sir. 

7295. — At  the  end  of  the  thirty-five  days  during  which  you  were  handcuffed  you 
say  that  you  were  again  handcuffed  for  two  days  additional  ? — Yes,  sir. 

7296— With  heavy  irons ?— Yes. 

7305. — When  the  handcuffs  were  put  on  you,  were  you  perfectly  quiet? — I  was 
perfectly  quiet. 

7306. — You  never  resisted? — I  never  resisted. 

7307. — You  allowed  them  to  be  put  on  and  you  were  perfectly  quiet? — I  was  per- 
fectly quiet,  and  I  allowed  them  to  handle  me  in  any  way  they  pleased. 

7308 — But  you  did  refuse  to  put  on  your  jacket  on  several  occasions? — Yes, 
that  is  so. 

7311. — It  was  within  your  cell   you   usually  refused   to   put  on  the  jacket? 

Within  my  cell. 

7312. — On  all  occasions? — Yes;  except  I  might  meet  the  officer  at  the  door,  and  I 
would  perhaps  just  saylielt  better  without  it,  that  the  weather  was  warm,  and  he 
could  put  it  on  if  he  liked,  and  if  he  wished  to  put  it  on  I  would  let  him  put  it  on. 

7320. — When  you  were  brought  before  Captain  Du  Cane  did  you  tell  him  how  long 
you  had  been  handcuffed? — I  did  not,  sir. 

(Mr.  Butts  and  Principal  Warder  King  here  brought  in  handcuffs.) 

7330. — Chairman — Rossa,  look  at  those  handcuffs,  and  see  which  of  those  kind  of 
handcuffs  was  put  on  you.  Are  those  all  the  patterns  of  handcuffs  used  in  the  prison \ 
Mr.  Butts — Yes,  my  lord.  Prisoner — These  are  the  kind  that  were  on  me  thiriy  five 
days. 

(Principal  Warder  King  puts  the  handcuffs  indicated  by  the  prisoner  on  Dr. 
Lyons,  with  the  hands  in  front.) 

7331 — Chairman — Now,  Rossa,  show  how  it  was  that  your  wrist  was  wound- 
ed?— Prisoner — If  he  pressed  the  spring  this  way  it  would  catch,  but  if  he  pressed  it. 
this  way  it  would  not  catch.    If  he  made  the  pressure  below  it  would  not  be  fair. 

7332. — Dr.  Lyons— If,  in  closing  the  spring,  he  held  up  the  hand? — Yes,  it  would 
oaten  then. 


368  0^  Donovan  BosscCs  Prison  Life. 

7333.- -Did  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  were  obliged  to  take  off  your  jacket 
while  you  had  the  handcuffs  on  ? — No,  certainly  not. 

7334 — Dk.  Lyons  (with  irons  on  his  wrists,  pours  water  into  a  glass  and  drinks 
it.)  Prisoner — Yes,  you  could  eat  and  drink  with  the  handcuffs  in  front  comfortably 
enough. 

(The  handcuffs  were  taken  off  and  put  on  again  with  the  hands  behind.) 

7336. — Dr.  Lyons — For  how  many  consecutive  hours  were  you  manacled  with 
your  hands  behind  your  back? — From  between  six  and  seven  hours  in  the  morning — 
that  is,  from  half-past  five  to  twelve  o'clock — and  from  about  half-past  twelve  or  a 
quarter  past  one  to  about  a  quarter-past  seven  in  the  evening.  That  was  something 
about  thirteen  hours. 

7337. — Did  you  find  it  excessively  fatiguing,  or  painful,  or  very  distressing? — Oh, 
certainly,  sir. 

7344. — Chairman — Now,  I  ask  you,  O'Donovan  Rossa,  whether  your  punishment 
during  the  period  of  thirty-fve  days  that  you  were  under  report  was  more  severe  or 
less  severe  than  the  punishment  that  you  had  to  undergo  after  your  sentence? — 
Well,  it  was  as  severe  ;  it  was  more  physically  severe,  but  I  did  not  feel  the  hunger 
that  I  felt  in  the  twenty-eight  days  bread  and  water. 

(The  Commission  deliberated  for  some  time.) 

7350. — Dr.  Greenhow — Rossa,  after  being  handcuffed  and  put  uponpunishment  diet 
for  twenty-eight  days,  you  were  placed  for  six  months  in  penal  class? — Yes,  penal 
class  diet  commenced — a  punishment  of  six  months — but  I  was  released  from  that  pun- 
ishment about  t  he  second  of  October,  I  think. 

7352. — Dr.  Lyons — Can  you  remember  distinctly  what  your  sensations  were  when 
you  were  putonthebread-and-water  punishment? — Onthefirstday  that  you  were  put 
oathe  bread-and-water  diet  what  were  your  sensations  as  to  hunger  or  otherwise? — 
Oh,  I  felt  so  hungry  that  I  began  to  think  of  books  that  I  read  in  my  youth  about  men 
bfing  pushed  into  places  and  eating  rats  and  mice,  and  I  recollect  well  the  feeling  I 
had  in  youth  about  men  eating  those  things.  I  thought  men  could  not  do  it.  But  I 
thought  then  that  I  could  do  it  myself. 

7353. — Was  that  the  sensaiion  you  experienced  the  firstday? — Oh, not  the  first  day, 
but  often  while  I  was  in  prison. 

7832  (Referring  to  the  Mrs.  Mnore  letter.) — Are  you  positive  that  the  Governor 
used  the  word  "intrigue,"  in  speaking  to  you  of  this  matter? — Yes,  I  am  positive. 

7841. — You  did  not  show  him  the  words  "  for  Mrs.  O'D.,"  on  the  first  occasion  ? — 
No,  he  did  not  show  me  the  letter  on  the  first  occasion — he  did  not  show  me  the 
letter  at  all ;  but  he  used  these  words  to  me,  "  It  was  only  yesterday  that  I  saw  for 
Mrs.  O'D.,  in  small  writing.  That  I  believe  was  only  a  subterfuge.  I  told  the  Secre- 
tary of  State  so.  and  1  told  the  Board  of  Directors  so.  I  said  "you  told  them  what  was 
false." 

7842. — Mr.  De  Vere. — Is  it  your  wish  now  to  state  to  this  Commission,  in  as  sol- 
emn a  way  as  you  can  do  it,  without  the  sanction  of  an  oath,  that  the  letter  now  re 
ferred  to  was  written  for  and  intended  for  your  wife,  and  for  no  other  person  what- 
ever?— Yes,  sir.    I  state  that  solemnly,  and  I  will  swear  it  if  you  desire. 

7848. — What  do  you  wish  to  have  done  in  regard  to  this  matter,  when  you  state 
that  you  bring  the  matter  before  us  with  the  view  of  our  doing  justice  to  you? — If 
what  the  Governor  told  me  is  on  record  in  any  official  place ;  if  he  wrote  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  State  or  the  Board  of  Directors  that  he  believed  the  letter  was  for  Moore's 
wife,  I  wish  to  have  that  destroyed,  wherever  that  paper  is,  or  any  official  record  of  it. 

7849. — You  wish  to  have  it  destroyed? — Yes. 

7850. — Supposing  that  that  cannot  be  done,  what  else  do  you  wish? — I  do  not  know 
what  else  can  be  done.  A  man  does  not  know  what  happens  after  he  is  dead  and 
gone  ;  but  we  all  know  this,  that  State  paper  offices  are  ransacked  and  matters  looked 
upon,  and  in  twenty  or  fifty  years'  time  this  may  come  forward  to  defame  my  name,  or 
be  brought  against  my  children. 

7853.— If  it  was  intended  to  go  to  your  wife,  why  was  it  not  addressed  to  her  at 
once?— My  wife  was  at  the  time,  my  lord,  connected  with  the  "Prisoner's"  Fund  Com- 
mit tee  f  ir  relieving  families  of  prisoners,  and  I  calculated  that  the  letter  to  my  wife 
would  be  stopped  in  the  Dublin  post-office,  her  name  being  more  remarkable;  and 
Moore  gave  me  the  address  of  his  mother.  I  asked  him  the  address  of  his  mother, 
because  he  told  me  previously  that  his  mother  used  to  go  to  my  wife  to  get  some  of 
this  money  weekly  from  her. 

7885.— Chairman— You  state  that  with  the  distinct  intimation  that  we  shall  go  into 
this  matter  at  Portland,  so  that  any  statement  you  make  will  be  tested  by  examina- 
tion ?— I  desired  to  be  brought  before  Mr.  Clifton  in  the  presence  of  Messrs.  Knox  and 


O  ^  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life,  369 

Pollock,  but  they  told  me  that  they  could  not  do  that,  and  they  also  told  me  that  he 
and  his  officers  contradicted  all  that  I  said. 

7868. — Did  not  Mr.  Clifton  on  a  subsequent  occasion  use  this  expression  to  you, 
that  he  "  could  not  be  sending  your  love-letters  to  your  wife  ?" — He  did,  sir. 

7869. — Was  that  in  reference  to  this  former  affair  or  not? — No,  sir  ;  it  was  in  refer- 
ence to  aletter  or  words  that  I  had  written  on  a  slate  for  him  to  copy.  He  told  me 
that  he  would  do  this  in  consequence  of  a  letter  he  received  from  my  wife,  asking  per- 
mission for  me  to  write  to  her,  answering  some  questions.  I  wrote  these  words  on  a 
slate,  and  sent  the  slate  to  Mr.  Clifton,  and  in  about  a  month  after,  I  asked  him  about 
the  matter,  and  he  said  "  I  could  not  be  writing  your  love-letters  to  your  wife." 

7871. — Chairman— Wiry  did  you  write  on  a  slate? — Paper  was  not  allowed,  my 
lord.    I  was  not  due  for  a  letter. 

7875. — Dr.  Lyons— Do  you,  after  hearing  what  Cranston  stated  about  your  being 
manacled  on  the  16th  of  June,  adhere  to  your  statement  that  it  was  on  the  17th  it 
commenced  ? — I  do,  sir. 

7877. — Dr.  Greenhow— Each  day  when  you  went  out  to  exercise,  your  hands  were 
tied  behind  your  back? — Yes,  sir.  I  expected  officer  Goad  would  give  fair  evidence  on 
the  matter,  being  a  religious  man.  One  day  he  was  tying  my  hands  behind,  and  he 
must  have  noticed  the  cut,  for  he  said,  "I  will  not  hurt  you."  "I  do  not  mind," 
said  I,  "  so  long  as  a  man  does  not  intend  it." 

7983. — Have  you  suffered  from  any  deficiency  of  clothing  from  that  time  till 
now? — I  ha ?e  in  Portland  ;  I  felt  so  cold  at  one  time  that  it  induced  me  to  leave  off 
work  and  go  into  the  cell  one  morning. 

7984. — Were  you  then  employed  in  the  quarry  work  at  Portland  ? — I  was,  sir,  and 
my  hands  got  sore — they  got  yellowish,  the  skin  got  whitish  and  then  broke  out. 

7985. — Do  you  know  what  chilblains  are? — Well,  I  never  had  anything  like  these  be- 
fore ;  never  had  chilblains,  but  in  three  or  four  places  the  flesh  just  melted  out. 

7986. — Did  the  doctor  treat  you  for  it?— I  showed  them  to  him  in  Portland.  I  asked 
him  for  inside  work,  and  he  said  my  hands  were  not  bad  enough  yet. 

7987. — Dr.  Lyons— He  said  what? — He  said  my  hands  were  not  bad  enough  yet  to 
give  me  inside  work. 

7991. — Dr.  Lyons — What  kind  of  gloves  did  you  get?— They  had  no  fingers.  They 
fit  on  the  hand  like  a  bag.  They  call  them  "  gloves."  I  was  treated  for  the  hands  in 
Millbank,  after  leaving  Portland.  They  kept  sore  for  a  few  months  up  to  May.  I  got 
ointment  from  the  doctor  in  Millbank  for  them. 

8030. — Dr.  Lyons. — Do  I  understand  that  you  wish  to  send  for  Mr.  McCarthy  Down- 
ing?— My  wife  showed  me  a  copy  of  some  correspondence  he  had  with  the  Secretary 
of  State.    If  both  attend,  I  would  wish  it. 

8031 — Dr.  Greenhow — Both  of  whom  ?— Both  Mr.  Downing  and  the  Secretary  of 
State,  on  the  treatment  and  the  inaccuracy  of  the  statement  Mr.  Bruce  made  in  Parlia- 
ment. Mr.  Downing  has  written  to  him,  saying  he  called  to  this  prison  and  made  a  kind 
of  examination  among  the  prison  officials. 

The  Commission  deliberated. 

8032. — Chairman — We  are  come  here,  O'Donovan  Rossa,  to  receive  any  evidence 
which  you  or  any  person  in  your  position  may  wish  to  render.  If  you  wish  to  have  Mr. 
McCarthy  Downing  examined,  you  can  tell  him  so,  and  he  can  offer  himself  if  he  likes  to 
do  so,  but  the  Commission  do  not  see  any  reason  for  calling  him? — Well,  my  lord,  I 
will  abide  by  the  decision  of  the  Commission.       ******** 

8741. — Chairman — Then  your  point  is  this,  that  Mr.  Fagan  granted  you  a  visit 

from  your  wife  on  the  14th  of  June,  and  you  wish  to  know  why  she  did  not  come  ? 

She  told  me  why  she  did  not  come.  I  will  ask  another  question,  my  lord.  Did  I  un- 
derstand from  your  lordship  or  any  gentleman  of  the  Commission,  the  first  day  of  your 
coming  here,  that  you  told  me  or  told  any  of  the  prisoners  that  any  person  they 
would  have  to  assist  them  during  the  Commission  would  be  allowed  to  them  every  day 
during  the  Commission  ? 

8742. — No.  We  told  you  that  assistance  might  be  given  by  a  friend  before  the 
Commission  commenced  the  examination,  but  not  afterwards. — I  was  speaking  to  other 
prisoners  about  my  wife  not  being  allowed  to  come,  and  Halpin  told  me  that  he  dis- 
tinctly recollected  Mr.  Lyons  telling  him  so. 

8743. — Chairman — No,  we  did  not  do  that.  We  came  to  the  conclusion,  which  we 
communicated  to  the  prisoners,  that  as  soon  as  the  examination  of  a  prisoner  com- 
menced, his  intercourse  with  friends  ceased. — Of  course,  my  lord,  I  am  in  a  very 
helpless  position.    It  is  very  hard  I  cannot  have  a  person  to  speak  to. 

8744. — We  have  decided  that.— I  will  not  press  it,  my  lord.  On  Thursday  evening  I 
asked  you  about  a  witness  named  Douglas. 

8747. — Do  you  know  where  the  man  Douglas  is? — My  wife  knows  where  his  wife 
te.    I  understand  he  is  in  Scotland. 


370  CP  Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life. 

8748. — He  is  no  longer  in  the  service? — No,  my  lord.  I  was  just  thinking  that 
even  though  you  have  evidence  enough  to  satisfy  you  that  I  was  telling  you  the 

truth,  still,  he  has  one  passage  in  his  letter 

9748. — I  may  tell  you  at  once  that,  as  regards  the  length  of  time  you  were  under 
handcuffs,  we  have  entries  in  the  prison  books  to  show  that  you  were  handcuffed. 
They  do  not  say  whether  you  were  handcuffed  behind  or  before,  but  that  you  were 
handcuffed  for  thirty-four  days,  one  after  another,  with  intermissions,  therefore  you 
need  bring  no  proof  of  that. — But  the  handcuffs  behind,  my  lord? 

8750  — If  you  wish  to  support  tbat  allegation  you  will  bring  witnesses. 
8751. — DrI  Lyons — Are  you  still  positive  about,  that,  that  every  day  you  were 
handcuffed  with  your  hands  behind  your  back? — Positive. 

8752. — Chairman — You  must  bring  evidence  if  you  wish  to  support  that  allega- 
tion?—I  do  wish  to  support  that  allegation,  my  lord. 

8780. — Dr.  Lyons — I  see  entered  here:  "  Monday,  1st  of  June,  1868,  9549,  J.  O'D. 
Rossa,  three  days'  punishment  diet1  ? — Yes,  itcommenced  that  day,  Mr.  Lyons. 

87S2. — Dr.  Greenhow — Why  were  you  put  on  punishment  that  day? — I  refused  to 
work  with  the  prisoners  outside,  after  seeing  the  unpleasant  life  I  led  with  them  and 
the  position  in  which  I  was. 

8783. — Dr.  Lyons — You  got  three  days'  bread  and  water  because  you  refused  to 
work  outside  ? — Yes. 

8786. — Dr.  Lyons — On  the  expiration  of  those  three  days,  were  you  again  put  on 
punishment  diet  ? — Yes,  Mr.  Lyons. 

8787. — When? — The  5th  of  June.  After  the  three  days  expired  then  one  day  in- 
tervened, and  I  was  on  report  for  the  next  day.  During  the  time  that  I  was  under  bread 
and  water  I  refused  to  salute  the  Governor.  I  desired  to  be  left  quietly  in  my  cell  to 
take  my  punishment.  I  was  punished  for  highly  insubordinate  conduct;  that  is  the 
insubordinate  conduct,  refusing  to  salute  the  Governor. 

8788. — Is  that  what  you  call  the  salaam? — That  is  what  I  call  the  salaam. 
8789. — Commencing  when? — The  5th.     I  have  the  date  here,  Mr.  Lyons. 
8790. — Dr.  Greenhow — What  words  did  you  use  that  day,  when  you  behaved  in 
this  offensive  manner,  as  alleged? — I  cannot  recollect,  sir,  what  words  I  used;  but  I 
recollect  using  the  words  before  him  in  the  adjudication  room  about  assassination. 
8791. — Dr.  Lyons — On  the  5th  of  June  I  find  "J.  O'D.  Kossa  placed  in  dark  cell, 
by  order  of  the  Governor,  at  7  p.  m.  on  the  4th  inst.?" — On  the  4th. 

8794. — On  the  5th  there  is,  I  And,  a  further  entry:  "J.  O'D.  Rossa,  three  days' 
penal  diet."    Is  that  the  case? — -That  is  the  case  ;  yes. 
8795.— That  is  the  case  ?— Yes. 

8796. — When  again  were  you  put  under  punishment  diet? — June  the  9th  is  the 
next. 

8797. — That  period,  of  course,  would  end  on  the  8th  ? — Yes  ;  and  then  a  day  inter- 
vening to  have  me  under  report. 

8798. — I  find  that  you  were  twice  reported  on  the  8th  ? — What  is  the  second  re- 
port, Mr.  Lyons? 

8799. — the  first  report  states,  "  Reported  by  Warder  Brown,  for  highly  insubordi- 
nate and  disrespectful  conduct  towards  Captain  Powell,  on  the  morning  of  the  5th  of 
June."  Also  reported  again  for  "  highly  insubordinate  conduct  towards  Captain 
Powell,  at  7  p.  m.,  in  the  renal  cells,  he  being  under  punishment  for  a  previous  of- 
tence?"— Well,  my  lord,  I  w  uld  wish  that  whenever  you  examine  the  officers  as  to 
my  violence,  whenever  they  speak  of  it,  that  you  would  ask  what  are  the  particular 
acts  of  violence  that  were  committed. 
8800 — Chairman — Tt'at  we  will  do. 

8801  — Dr.  Lyons — I  find  on  Tuesday,  the  9th  of  June,  "  J.  O'D.  Rossa  removed  to 
dark  cell,  by  order  of  the  Governor,"  apparently  at  twelve  o'clock  in  the  day  ? — Yes; 
I  was  for  five  or  six  days  in  the  dark  cell  that  time. 

8802. — I  find  on  the  same  day  the  entry,  "  J.  O'D.  Rossa,  two  days'  pena.  diet."  Is 
that  correct? — That  is  correct,  Mr.  Lyons. 

8803. — Wnen  next  were  you  put  on  penal  diet? — Have  you  the  12th,  sir;  the 
12th  <f  June? 

8804. — I  find  that  on  the  11th  you  were  "  reported  by  Warder  Brown  for  de 
facing  the  cell  by  writing  on  it,  about  9.30  p.  m.  on  the  9th;  also  insubordinate 
conduct  to  Captain  Powell,  the  10th,  he  being  under  punishment  in  the  dark  «-eli 
for  a  previous  offence."  Is  that  correct? — It  is  correct  that  I  did  not  salute  him  un 
der  those  cruem^tances.    That  is  all  I  evei  did. 

8805. — I  find  also,  on  the  11th  of  June,  "  J.  O'D.  Rossa,  12.15,  released  from  the 
dark  cell  tins  day,  by  order  of  the  Governor."  Is  that  correct? — I  cannot,  Mr.  L\  •!  - 
recollect  the  particular  dales 

8806.— Then  I  find  on  tie  12th,  "J.  O'D.  Rossa  reported  by  Assistant  Warder 
Cranston  for  refusing  to  leave  his  cell  when  under  report,  to  go  before  the  Governor, 


O' *  Donovan  Rosso?  s  Prison  Life.  371 

at  12  noon,  the  9th  inst.;  also  for  highly  disrespectful  and  insubordinate  conduct  to- 
wards the  Governor,  on  the  9th  inst.?" — Yes,  [  refused  to  go  before  the  Governor.  I 
said  he  could  order  his  punishment,  and  let  them  go  on  with  their  assassin  work  with- 
out me,  and  that  as  he  would  not  write  down  anything  I  would  say  there  was  no  use 
going  betore  him. 

8807. — •'  12.40.  J.  O'D.  Rossa,  two  days'  punishment  diet,  and  pay  fordamage  to 
his  cell  door."  How  were  you  to  pay  for  that? — Out  (if  the  gratuities.  Prisoners 
get  a  gratuity. 

8803 — That  was  to  be  debited  against  your  credits  ? — I  have  none  at  all,  Mr.  Lyons. 

8812. — On  Sunday,  the  14th,  I  find  entered,"  J.  O'D.  Rossa  detained  under  further 
report,"'  and  on  Monday,  ihe  loth  of  June,  "J.  0*D.  Rossa,  two  days'  punishment, 
and  pay  for  damage  to  gutta-percha  pint?" — Two  days  on  the  15th. 

8813. — Chairman — Then  this  accounts  tor  the  period  from  the  1st  of  June  to  the 
16th?— Yes,  my  lord. 

8814 —Dr.  Lyons— Sunday,  the  14th,  I  find,  "J.  O'D.  Rossa  reported  by  Assist- 
ant Warder  H  bbert  for  refusing  to  clean  his  boots  and  willfully  damaging  his 
cup,  about  twelve  noon,  this  day"  Whnt  did  you  do  to  the  cup? — I  do  not  recol- 
lect n;>w,  Mi-.  Lyons.  Oh,  yes  I  now  recollect.  I  found  the  cup  that.  I  got  was  a 
bit  nipped.  1  cught  it  with  my  teeth  and  nipped  a  bit  out  of  it,  and  kept  it  in 
my  mouth  with  a  feeling  of  hunger  to  be  chewng  it,  and  Mr.  Alison  saw  it  and 
had  me  reported,  and  then  I  took  and  broke  the  cup  entirely. 

8819. — Dr.  Greenhow — And  you  gave  as  your  reason  for  refusing  to  work  outside, 
that  you  would  not  be  working  with  a  gang  of  thieves? — Yes,  sir. 

8320. — Do  you  recollect  a  day  on  which  you  were  found  imperfectly  dressed ; 
that  is,  having  no  jacket  on,  on  which  you  were  ordered  by  Thompson  to  put  your 
jacket  on  ? — Yes,  I  think  I  do,  sir. 

8825.— Did  you  use  those  words  :  "  Then  you  are  not  satisfied  yet,  you  miserable, 
prejudiced  wretch"? — Yes. 

8830. — On  the  9th  of  June,  when  you  were  brought  before  the  Governor,  did  you 
refuse  to  stand  to  "  attention,"  and  did  you  lounge  back  with  your  hands  in  front  of 
you? — Yes,  I  did,  this  way.     (Exhibits  the  attitude.) 

8831. — Then,  on  the  12th  of  June,  you  were  ordered  out  of  your  cell  for  the  pur- 
pose of  going  before  the  Governor,  being  under  report,  when  you  refused,  saying, 
"  You  can  go  on  with  your  assassin  work  without  me."  Do  you  think  that  is  true  ? — 
Yes,  sir;  I  acknowledge  that. 

8832. — On  the  9th  of  June,  did  they  find  that  you  had  written  on  your  cell,  and 
damaged  your  cell  by  writing? — Will  you  please  read  the  charge? 

8833.— The  charge  is,  that  "  on  inspecting  the  prisoner's  cell  on  the  9th  instant,  I 
found  he  had  willfully  damaged  it  by  writing  on  it." — Does  it  give  what  was  written, 
sir? 

8834.— It  does  not  say  what  was  written.    (No  reply.) 

8835. — Chairman — Was  that  tne  occasion  when  you  wrote  those  words  in  French, 
"  Le sang  rouge  d'lrelande  coule  en  Angleterre  t — No,  my  lord;  that  was  in  Millbank. 

8836. — Dr.  Greenhow — Have  you  written  on  the  cell  here? — Yes.  I  will  tell  you 
under  what  circumstances.  When  I  could  not  get  the  Governor  to  take  down  my 
charge  in  writing,  I  would  write  on  the  cell  those  very  things  that  I  wanted  him  to 
take  down,  with  a  view  that  if  I  was  reported  for  this  the  writing  should  be  put  on 
record. 

8843. — Mr.  De  Vere — O'Donovan  Rossa,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three  days' 
intermission,  you  appear  to  have  been  on  bread  and  water  and  in  dark  cells  from  the 
1st  of  June  until  the  16th,  when  you  committed  this  assault  on  the  Governor?— 
Yes,  sir. 

8844. — The  charges  against  you  during  that  time  appear  to  be  for  insubordination 
and  disobedience.  Was  there  any  charge  made  against  you  during  that  time  of  assault 
or  violence  to  any  officer  ? — No,  sir;  there  cannot  be.  I  was  never  violent  or  attempted 
to  assault  any  officer  except  on  a  few  occasions  that  they  laid  hands  on  me.  I  was 
just  as  peaceful  and  obedient  to  them  on  those  occasions  too. 

8845. — Dr.  Greenhow — Were  those  occasions  when  you  were  violent  between  the 
1st  and  16th  of  June  ? — I  was  not  violent,  but  I  refused  to  leave  the  cell,  and  then  they 
would  come  and  put  hands  on  me,  and  I  would  go. 

8846.— You  went  quietly  and  did  not  resist?— I  did  not  resist,  but  went  quietly. 

8847.— Mr.  De  Vere— What  effect  on  your  health,  spirits  and  character,  do  you 
conceive  that  long  period  of  dark  cells  and  bread  and  water  to  have  had?— Well,  I 
felt  at  the  time,  of  course,  that  it  would  kill  me  ;  that  was  the  feeling  I  had. 

8S49. — Will  you  state  in  what  respect  your  health  was  affected?— Well,  at  the 
tim%  I  did  not  feel  it  much  affected ;  but  I  felt  not  well  since ;  I  got  an  affection  of  the 
back  since,  that  I  had  not  at  that  time. 

8850. — Is  it  true  that  you  have,  on  any  occasion  since  that,  expressed  your  regret 


372  C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

for  your  conduct  on  the  16th?— No,  I  do  not  think  it  is,  except  so  far  as  expressing  it 
in  such  a  manner  as  you  have  seen  in  that  statement  I  gave  you  ;  that  it  was  an  act, — 
that  It  is  an  act  I  thought  once  I  could  never  do.  There  is  one  report  that  I  wish  to 
refer  to  that  I  do  not  see  here,  that  might  elicit  some  evidence  as  to  having  my  hands 
behind  my  back  at  one  particular  date,  and  that  is  officer  Thompson's.  He  came  to 
me  one  day  after  dinner  and  put  me  in  irons. 

8885.— Chairman— What  day  was  that?— I  cannot  recollect  the  day,  my  lord,  but 
I  will  say  that  if  you  can  find  the  report  it  will  be  one  of  the  days  I  was  in  irons  with  my 
hands  behind  my  back.  It  is  some  date  during  the  thirty -five  days,  Dr.  Greenhow— 
perhaps  at  the  middle  of  the  thirty-five  days,  or  about  that  time,  he  came  in.  You  see 
the  report  about  my  tearing  my  clothes — that  is  when  the  irons  were  tied  behind;  I 
had  no  braces;  I  had  some  annoyance  in  trying  to  keep  my  trowsers  up,  and  I  just 
bit  a  hole  in  my  waistcoat  one  day — two  holes — and  ripped  the  seam  behind  to  keep 
the  trowsers  up,  and  Thompson,  after  tying  the  irons  behind,  set  about  unloosening  the 
clothes  and  I  could  not  tie  them  again.  So  I  asked  him  was  he  ordered  to  do  that. 
"Oh,"  said  he,  "  that  is  none  of  your  business."  Said  I,  "Have  you  notdoneyour 
duty,  y<>u  mean  wretch."  So  there  was  a  report  put  on  the  books  to  that  effect,  and 
he  will  be  before  you  for  examination,  if  you  have  not  examined  him  already. 

8886. — Dr  Lyons — Did  your  trowsers  fall  down? — The  trowsers  used  to  fall  down. 

8887. — How  did  you  keep  them  up  after  he  unloosed  them  ? — I  had  to  leave  it  so. 

8888. — Why  had  you  no  braees? — The  prison  rules  do  not  allow  any  braces  while 
you  are  in  punishment  cells,  for  fear  a  man  would  hang  himself,  I  suppose. 

8889. — Are  you  positive  that  the  braces  were  taken  away  from  you  always  in  the 
dark  cell? — Always  from  me. 

8891.— Yes;  here  I  find  Assistant  Warden  Francis  Thompson,  who,  being  duly 
sworn,  states,  19th  June,  that  about  6  p.  m.  on  the  19th  instant  I  was  on  duty  in  the 
penal  class  separate  cells,  when  I  went  to  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa's  cell  for  the 

Eurpose  of  changing  his  handcuffs  from  front  to  rear — they  having  been  removed  for 
im  to  get  his  supper,  when  I  found  him  wearing  his  vest  buttoned  to  his  breeches, 
which  he  had  ripped.  I  told  him  not  to  do  that,  and  unbuttoned  them,  and  he  said  in 
asnarly  manner:  "Have  you  not  done  your  duty,  yet,  you  wretch?" — I  thought 
it  might  be  some  other  date. 

8893. — Dr.  Lyons.— I  find  that  from  the  1st  to  the  16th  of  June,  you  were  every 
day  confined  under  report  and  punishment? — Oh,  yes,  every  day. 

8894. — Then  on  the  17th  of  June,  by  your  own  statement,  you  were  put  in  hand- 
cuffs and  kept  so  during  a  period  of  thirty -five  days? — Yes,  on  the  morning  of  the 
17th  of  June. 

8895. — On  the  23d  of  July,  I  find  in  this  book  an  entry  that  you  were  then  sen- 
tenced to  twenty-eight  days'  punishment  diet  in  close  confinement,  and  six  months' 
penal  diet,  from  the  20th  instant.    That  was  so,  was  it? — Yes. 

8896. — That  twenty-eight  days  was  carried  out  from  the  20th? — Yes,  from  the 
thirty-five  days  after  the  17th  of  June. 

8897. — That  would  bring  us  to  the  19th  of  August.  Now,  on  the  20th  of  August  I 
find  you  reported  by  Principal  Warder  Alison  for  gross  insolence  to  Captain  Harvey; 
and  on  the  21st.  I  find  that  you  were  remanded  for  the  Director? — If  you  will  ask  Ali- 
son in  his  examination  what  this  insolence  was — 

8801. — Do  you  not  remember  anything  about  it? — No;  I  only  recollect  that  I 
was  reported  the  morning  after  they  trampled  me  in  the  cell.  The  day  after,  I  was  re- 
ported, and  they  sent  the  case  to  the  Director,  they  reported  me  for  assaulting 
three  officers  after  they  working  their  will  on  me. 

8920. — Dr.  Greenhow — Since  Captain  Du  Cane  said  he  would  give  you  a  chance 
of  going  on  smoothly  and  let  you  go  out  to  work,  you  have  gone  on  well,  and  never 
been  reported  since  ? — Except  once,  that  a  letter  was  found  on  a  prisoner,  and  I  was 
charged  with  writing  the  letter,  and  I  was  put  ten  days  in  solitary  confinement,  await- 
ing report.  The  Director  came  after  I  was  about  five  or  six  days  in,  and  did  not  see  me. 
I  was  taken  out  as  if  to  be  taken  before  him  while  he  was  sitting,  and  I  was  brought 
back  to  my  cell  again. 

8923. — Dr.  Greenhow — May  I  ask  did  you  write  the  letter? — No,  sir,  I  did  not.  I 
would  tell  you,  sir,  if  I  did,  because  I  have  tried  to  send  out  letters. 

8934. — Dr.  Lyons — The  offence  was  sending  out  a  letter? — A  letter  was  got  in  the 
prison  with  some  prisoner.  I  was  immediately  put  in  solitary  confinement  as  being 
the  writer  of  this  letter.    I  was  not  the  writer  of  it. 

9545 — Chairman — We  will  go  to  the  next  paragraph.  You  say  discipline  re- 
quired that  in  a  blackhole  cell  you  should  be  left  during  two  nights  without  bed,  blan- 
ket or  even  rug.    When  was  that?— That  was  in  this  prison,  my  lord. 

9550 — Were  you,  in  point  of  fact,  left  without  bed,  blanket  or  rug?— Yes,  two 
nights  in  this  blackhole. 


0^  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  373 

9564. — Dr.  Greenhow— Did  it  ever  happen  to  you  to  be  deprived  of  your  body 
clothes  in  ihe  dark  cell?— Yes,  sir. 

9567. — I  am  now  asking  if  it  ever  happened  to  you  to  be  in  the  dark  cell  and  to 
have  your  body  clothes  taken  away  from  you? — Yes. 

9568. — What  had  you  on  that  occasion? — Two  blankets  and  a  rug. 

9569. — Ai«d  a  mattress? — No  mattress. 

9570. — Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  were  in  a  dark  cell  without  a  mattress  and 
without  any  body  clothes? — Yes,  sir. 

9578. — Do  yi>u  remember  being  in  a  dark  cell  from  the  6th  to  ihe  9th  of  August, 
and  on  the  8th  being  removed  from  No.  3  to  No.  2  dark  cell,  by  order  of  the  medical 
man? — Yes,  Mr.  De  Vere ;  one  day  I  was  removed,  for  I  reported  to  the  doctor  the 
stench  of  my  cell  or  something,  and  he  removed  me,  and  I  was  a  day  or  two  in  the 
second  cell 

9584. — Mr.  De  Yere — On  any  of  those  occasions  when  you  were  confined  in 
dark  cells,  were  you  ironed  during  your  confinement  in  a  dark  cell ? — Well,  Mr.  De 
Vere,  I  cannot  say  exactly.  I  recollect,  any  way,  the  state  of  my  mind  about  these 
cells.  When  they  deprived  me  of  books  in  ihe  light  cells,  and  I  could  not  get  anything 
to  pass  aw-ty  my  time,  I  used  to  recite  something,  and  try  to  pass  the  time  as  well 
as  I  could,  and  made  a  noise  which  passed  me  to  the  dark  cell.  When  I  was  thiriy- 
five  days  with  my  hands  behind  my  back,  I  was  allowed  books,  and  tried  to  read  by 
turning  ihe  le  ives  with  my  mouth,  and  I  made  no  noise  ;  but  when  the  twenty-eight 
days  n  bread-and  water  punishment  commenced  I  made  a  noise.  So  1  would  not 
say  I  was  in  the  dark  cells  during  the  thirty-five  days  I  was  in  the  irons,  because 
I  had   ■<>(-ks. 

9585  — Were  you  on  any  occasion  kept  in  irons  at  night? — Not  in  this  prison; 
in  Milbank  I  was. 

9586. — During  your  thirty  five  days  in  irons  were  you  allowed  books? — Yes,  I 
was  allowed  a  library  book. 

9587. — You  described  the  manner  in  which  you  turned  over  the  leaves? — Yes,  I 
used  1 1  put  the  book  on  the  block,  and  then  turn  upside  down  my  cell-pot,  and  sit 
on  it,  and  turn  over  the  leaves  with  my  lips. 

9588 — Are  you  prepared  to  say  whether  that  mode  of  turning  over  the  leaves 
continued  during  the  whole  of  the  thirty -five  days? — That  was  the  way  I  recollect  I 
used  to  do  it. 

9589. — During  the  whole  of  the  time  ?— Yes.  I  recollect  one  of  the  books  I  had 
that  time,  during  a  fortnight,  was  "D'Aubigne's  History  of  the  Reformation.'" 

9590. — During  the  whole  time  of  reading  "  D'Aubigne's  History  of  the  Reforma- 
tion" do  you  recollect  turning  the  leaves  that  way? — Oh,  yes. 

9591. — Dr.  Lyons — You  spoke  of  putting  the  book  in  a  certain  position — how  did 
you  do  it  ? — I  could  use  my  hands  so  far  as  to  put  the  book  in  the  position.  I  sat 
down  with  my  legs  on  each  side  of  the  block.    You  saw  those  blocks  in  the  cells. 

9592. — Will  you  take  this  printed  copy  of  your  statement  in  your  hand,  and  look 
at  the  paragraph  there  commencing  with  the  word  "  discipline."  There  are  two 
distinct  allegations  made  in  that  paragraph.  Do  you  observe— just  read  it? — "Dis- 
cipline required  that  in  a  blackhole  cell  I  be  left  two  nights  without  bed,  blanket  or 
even  ru^,  and  I  should  like  to  see  the  prison  rule  which  authorizes  it." 

9593. — That  is  one  of  the  allegations.  The  other  follows  that? — "To  give  me  a 
rug  and  blanket,  and  deprive  me  of  my  body  clothes  in  such  a  place,  is  also  what  I 
experienced  often." 

9594. — Did  both  these  events  occur  I — Both  these  events  occurred. 

9595. — Did  they  occur  together,  or  were  they  separated  by  an  interval? — Sepa- 
rated by  an  interval. 

9600 — Do  you  mean  to  say  that  on  several  occasions  it  happened  to  you  that  you 
were  deprived  of  your  clothes,  and  left  in  a  dark  cell  with  only  two  blankets  and  a 
rug,  and  no  mattress? — Yes. 

9603.— It  occurred  several  times  in  Portland? — Yes. 

9610.— Dr.  Lyons — Was  it  because  ?    I  beg  pardon,  Mr.  Lyons,  it  did  occur 

in  this  prison,  even  more  than  once ;  because  I  now  recollect  that  there  was  a  ques- 
tion amongst  the  officers  as  to  whether  they  would  leave  me  my  stockings,  and  an^ 
other  time  whether  they  would  leave  me  my  drawers;  so  it  did  occur  more  than  once. 

9611. — Did  it  occur  twice? — It  did.  I  recollect  one  of  the  officers  saying,  "You 
can  leave  him  his  stockings."  I  do  not  know  was  it  the  same  time  about  the  drawers. 
This  positively  occurred,  so  that  it  must  have  occurred  more  than  once. 

9618. — Dr.  Lyons — Was  it  not  because  you  did  not  consider  what  was  left  to  you 
of  your  clothes  and  those  bed  clothes  sufficient  to  keep  you  warm,  that  you  refused 
to  take  off  your  clothes? — Certainly,  Mr.  Lyons.  Yes,  I  told  them  I  would  give  my 
clothes,  if  they  gave  me  a  bed,  but  that  I  wanted  to  keep  my  body  clothes  if  there 
was  no  bed. 


374:  O' 'Donovan  fiosscfs  Prison  Life. 

96i9,_You  told  them  that? — I  told  them  that,  and  Mr.  Alison  gave  orders  to  strip 
me,  and  they  rushed  and  threw  me  down.  Might  I  ask  if  the  doctor  will  be  examined, 
and  I  be  allowed  to  question  him? 

9620. — Chairman — Yes.  Are  there  any  other  officers  ? — I  have  given  the  names, 
my  lord.    Have  they  stated  my  hands  were  not  tied  behind? 

9621. — I  cannot  tell  you  what  they  have  stated,  or  what  our  opinion  is  on  it.  In 
proper  time  we  will  make  up  our  minds  on  that.    If  Cranston  said (A.  pause.) 

9629. — Yes,  my  lord.  Regarding  your  decision  about  my  being  not  allowed  to  ask 
those  witnesses,  whom  you  have  examined,  any  questions,  I  will  just  observe  that  I 
do  not  object  to  any  decision  you  may  make.  I  leave  myself  entirely  in  your  hands 
until  the  Commission  is  coming  to  a  close,  but  if  you  then  tell  me  you  are  not  satis- 
fled  that  I  have  told  the  truth,  I  hope  you  will  give  me  some  way  for  saying  a  few 
words. 

9629. — You  may  rely  that  if  we  think  it  just  to  you  to  confront  you  with  any 
witness  we  shall  do  so. — Yes,  my  lord,  I  recollect  Dr.  Greenhow's  expression  the  first 
day,  that  your  object  was  to  know  everything,  and  that  you  will  give  me  every  facil- 
ity. 

9631. — Mr.  Broderick — You  recollect  that  we  did  confront  you  with  some  wit- 
nesses whose  recollection  was  different  from  yours? — Yes 

9658. — Mr.  Broderick — I  think  it  is  clear  that  on  the  first  occasion  you  were  two 
nights  without  bed,  blanket,  or  rug;  that  there  was  a  second  occasion  on  which  you 
were,  at  all  events,  without  a  mattress,  namely,  on  the  19th  of  August,  andthatthere 
was  a  third  occasion,  the  date  of  which  you  cannot  fix? — The  25th. 

9666. — Chairman — I  will  go  now  to  the  next  paragraph  of  your  letter.  You  say, 
"To  be  confined  for  months  in  a  darkened  cell,  specially  furnished  with  a  privy  un- 
furnished with  a  lid,  and  one  month  of  this  without  ever  stirring  out  of  it,  except  to 
the  blackhole,  and  on  16  ounces  of  bread,  and  40  ounces  of  water  daily,  may  not  be 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  health,  but  is  deemed  necessary  for  discipline" — 
when  did  that  occur? — That  occurred  in '68,  my  lord. 

9664. — "  For  months,"  you  say.  Were  you  in  a  darkened  cell  for  months? — Yes, 
my  lord. 

9668. — How  long  was  the  period? — From  the  first  of  June  to  the  first  of  October, 
my  lord,  in  this  prison. 

9669. — Was  the  cell  darkened  all  the  time  ?    Yes,  my  lord. 

9670. — By  a  screen  within? — By  an  iron  screen,  my  lord. 

9671. — Was  there  a  privy  in  the  corner  of  the  cell? — Yes,  my  lord,  there  was. 

9672. — Without  a  lid?    Yes,  my  lord,  it  can  be  seen  to  the  present  day. 

9673. — Mr.  Da  Vere — How  long  were  you  there? — From  the  1st  of  June  to  the  1st 
of  October,  I  was  in  this  darkened  cell  in  punishment,  and  since  I  came  to  the  prison 
in  it  without  punishment. 

9674. — You  say,  "  One  month  without  ever  stirring  out  of  it."  You  were  taken 
out  for  exercise,  were  you  not? — For  the  twenty-eight  days  I  was  not,  my  lord. 

9676. — Dr.  Greenhow — That  was  the  period  on  bread  and  water? — Yes ;  I  did  not 
leave  the  cell  these  twenty-eight  days. 

93S6. — Mb.  De  Verb — During  the  whole  of  that  period  that  you  were  in  the  cell  in 
which  was  a  privy,  was  there  a  lid  to  it  any  part  of  the  time  ? — No,  sir ;  no  lid  at  all? 

9837. — Chairman — WTas  there  any  offensive  smell  from  it? — Yes,  my  lord,  there 
was. 

9738. — Do  you  believe  the  doctor  has  neglected  you? — I  am  not  a  medical  man; 
I  on:y  state  what  passed  between  me  and  the  doctor. 

9739  —It  does  not  appear  to  me  that  you  distinctly  state  that  he  has  neglected 
you  ? — I  only  state  what  has  occurred  and  how  I  felt. 

9756.— Is  there  anything  that  has  occurred  within  the  prison  since  you  have  been 
confined  that  you  would  refer  to  as  the  cause  of  that  pain? — Unless  that  leap  on  my 
chest  would  cause  it. 

9757. — Were  you  very  violently  pressed  on  the  chest  on  that  occasion? — Yes;  he 
stood  up  and  leaped  down  on  me,  that  way,  with  his  knees  (imitating  the  act). 

9758. — Why  did  he  stand  up  ? — To  turn  me  to  take  the  trousers  off.  He  leaped 
that  way,  down  on  me  with  his  knees. 

9759  — During  that  act,  were  you  lying  on  the  floor? — Lying  on  the  floor. 

9760. — 0'i  your  back? — On  my  back. 

9761 — The't,  h;id  thpy  '°  turn  yon  over? — To  turn  me  over.  He  had  his  knee  on 
mv  neck  while  they  were  taking  off  my  clothes.  It  you  ever  saw  a  pig-trying  for 
measles  in  Ireland,  "it  was  just  the  same  as  that. 

9765.— You  did  not  think  you  were  hurt,  on  that  occasion?— I  did  not;  but  I  felt 
my  chest:    when  he  leaped  oh  mv  chest  a  burst  of  air  shot  up  my  throat. 

9766. — You  did  feel  that? — Yes,  sir. 

9771, — You  say  in  your  statement,  "  T  do  not  see  any  rule  which  authorizes  dis- 


CP  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  375 

cipline  to  deprive  a  man  of  the  use  of  the  Bible  for  six  months,  and  yet  this  sentence 
was  passed  on  me."  Will  you  explain  what  you  mean  by  that? — Yes.  In  Portland, 
my  lord,  a  sentence  was  passed  on  me  that  1  be  deprived  of  books  for  six  months, 
including  the  Bible. 

9772. — VVbo  passed  that  sentence? — It  was,  I  tbink,  sent  by  the  directors,  my 
lord.    It  was  under  the  date — if  you  look  on  the  records — of  January  25th,  1867. 

9773. — You  were  ordered  by  the  directors,  when  at  Portland,  to  be  deprived  of 
books  for  six  months? — Yes,  nry  lord. 

9777. — Dr.  Greenhow — The  sentence  is,  "  Three  days'  confinement  and  punishment 
diet;  1,440  marks,  540  for  remission;  25  days' penal  class  diet;  to  be  degraded  to 
penal  class;  to  forfeit  640  marks  remission;  to  be  deprived  of  all  books  for  six 
months;  to  be  only  allowed  sufficient  waste  paper  daily  for  the  wants  of  nature,  for 
having  a  book  concealed  in  the  work-shed  containing  improper  writing,  also  letters." 
Was  there  any  writing  in  the  book  itself? — Yes,  I  had  written  on  the  pages  of  the 
book.  The  book  was  concealed  in  the  shed.  I  acknowledge  to  you  that  it  was  I  who 
wrote  in  the  book,  but  they  had  no  evidence  of  it. 

9788. — Dr.  Lyons — What  was  the  writing  that  was  improper  ? — That  is  what  I 
would  wish  to  call  his  lordship's  and  the  Commissioners'  attention  to,  the  way  reports 
are  drawn  up.  I  tried  to  get  the  Governor  to  correct  the  report  that  the  writing 
was  not  improper,  but  that  I  had  it  improperly  in  my  possession. 

9779. — Chairman — What  was  the  writing? — A  letter  to  my  wife.  The  one  in 
question  about  the  book  was,  I  think,  a  copy  of  a  letter  or  memorial  to  the  Secretary 
of  State,  which  I  have  submitted  to  your  lordship  and  the  Commission. 

9780. — You  wish,  then,  to  state  to  us  that  the  book  was  not  of  an  improper  char- 
acter, nor  the  writing  of  an  improper  description,  but  that  what  was  meant  was  that 
the  book  and  the  writing  were  improperly  in  your  possession? — Yes. 

9781. — Dr.  Lyons — What  was  the  name  of  the  book? — A  prayer-book, — a  "  Think 
Well  On  It,"  or  something  of  that  kind ;  but  not  one  of  those  supplied  to  me. 

9782. — When  you  say  that  you  were  deprived  of  all  books  for  six  months,  do  you 
include  religious  books? — Yes;  I  recollect  trying  to  get  a  Bible  ;  I  came  to  a  punish- 
ment cell  and  there  was  a  Bible  in  it ;  I  suspected  the  officer  would  take  the  Bible 
and  I  hid  it  under  the  cell-pot,  and  he  went  looking  for  it,  and  found  it  out. 

9783. — Dr.  Lyons— Did  he  take  it  away  ?— He  took  it  away. 

9784. — Dr.  Greenhow — Was  it  a  Protestant  or  a  Catholic  Bible  ? — It  was  Protest- 
ant; it  is  Protestant  Bibles  are  in  all  these  cells. 

9787. — Dr.  Lyons — I  see  that  you  have  applied  for  extra  books.  Are  you  much 
given  to  study? — Yes;  any  time  I  have  I  like  to  read.  I  got  great  annoyance  in  the 
way  of  not  getting  books ;  [  could  never  get  books  that  I  wanted. 

9789. — When  you  say  that  for  months  you  were  "  deprived  of  that  waste  brown 
paper  which  is  supplied  to  every  prisoner  for  purposes  of  nature,"  that  was  not  the 
case  at  the  time  that  all  books  were  taken  away  from  you  on  this  occasion? — No,  my 
iord. 

9790. — Where  was  it  ? — That  occurred  in  Millbank. 

9791. — How  long  was  it  in  operation? — I  was  four  months  in  the  penal  class;  in 
fact,  I  was  about  six  months,  I  think. 

9792. — Dr.  Greenhow — You  told  us  that  you  wrote  in  that  book  at  the  shed;  did 
you  write  in  any  other  book? — No,  I  never  wrote  in  any  other  book. 

9793. — You  never  injured  any  library  book? — I  never  injured  any  library  book. 
Perhaps  you  will  be  told  I  wrote  in  my  library  books;  but  in  my  report  I  allude  to 
that,  where  I  say,  you  will  do  well  not  to  believe  it  until  you  question  me. 

9794. — Dr.  Lyons — What  do  you  say  about  it? — "  If  you  will  inquire  why,  you  will 
perhaps  be  told  that  I  injured  some  of  the  books  given  tome;  but  you  will  do  well 
not  to  believe  it  until  you  question  me." 

9795. — Mr.  De  Vere — You  said  that  the  Bibles  placed  in  the  penal  cells  are  Pro- 
testant Bibles? — Yes,  sir. 

9796. — Are  they  supplied  to  Roman  Catholics  in  the  penal  cells? — I  cannot  say, 
Mr.  De  Vere.    I  only  speak  for  myself. 

9798. — You  are  a  Roman  Catholic? — Well,  I  have  never  been  at  any  other  place  of 
worship. 

9799. — You  are  registered  as  a  Roman  Catholic? — Yes,  registered  as  a  Roman 
Catholic. 

9800. — Have  you  ever  complained  to  the  visiting  priest  that  you  were  supplied 
with  a  Protestant  Bible  ? — Never,  sir.  I  would  not  make  such  a  complaint,  because  I 
do  not  want  to  net  into  religious  subjects.  Not  with  disrepect  to  you,  Mr.  De  Vere, 
but  I  only  express  my  opinion  that  I  have  no  desire  to  get  into  religious  matters  of 
discipline. 

9801. — In  fact,  you  never  made  a  complaint  on  the  subject? — I  did  not. 

9802. — Dr.  Greenhow — Did  you  ask  for  "  D'Aubigne's  History  of  the  Reforma- 

"  vourself  ? — Yes,  I  did. 


376  O  ^  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life, 

9813 I  was  just  coming  to  that.    It— the  Bible— was  given  to  you  in  Portland  ?— 

In  Portland  the  Bible  supplied  was  the  Old  and  New  Testament.  In  Milbank  and  this 
prison  it  was  a  Testament.  But  I  applied  for  a  Bible,  and  the  reason  I  will  tell  you. 
In  any  studies  1  engaged  in  are  languages;  there  are  here  German  and  Italian 
Bibles,  the  Protestant  version,  got  up  by  the  Bible  Society,  and  I  desired  to  have 
one  of  this  kind,  as  I  stated,  having  no  other  books  of  foreign  languages  to  read.  I 
got  permission  from  the  Catholic  Chaplain  to  get  one  of  these  books  from  the  Pro- 
testant Chaplain.    I  made  application,  and  my  request  was  attended  to. 

9814. — Dk.  Greenhow — It  was  an  English  Bible  then? — No,  not  in  the  English  lan- 
guage. I  applied  for  some  Irish  books:  I  could  not  get  them,  but  the  Protestant 
Chaplain  was  kind  enough  to  lend  me  his  own  Protestant  Bible,  in  the  Irish  lan- 
guage. 

9815.— Chairman— In  the  Irish  language  ?— Yes,  my  lord. 

9819. — Dr.  Greenhow — You  state  in  page  4,  that  you  were  stripped  naked  once  a 
day  for  three  or  four  months? — Yes. 

9820 Where  did  that  occur  ?— In  Millbank. 

982 i. — At  what  period  did  it  occur? — From  February  until  May,  certainly. 

9822.— Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that  you  were  stripped  once  a  day  ? — Once  a 
day,  sir,  assuredly.  I  had  to  go  through  positions  to  have  them  look  at  all  parts  of 
me  naked. 

9823. — In  what  place  were  you  stripped? — I  was  stripped  naked  in  my  cell  when 
the  officers  came,  once  a  day. 

9827. — Mr.  De  Vere — In  page  4  you  state  that  "  On  refusing  one  day  to  be  the 
agent  of  your  own  shame,  Ave  officers  seized  you,  and,  giving  you  a  terrible  choking, 
left  you  naked  on  the  floor  ?"— Yes,  sir. 

9832. — On  that  occasion  were  the  five  officers  present? — Yes?  there  were  five  of 
them  charged  on  me. 

9834.— Was  that  stripping  you  naked,  once  a  day  for  three  or  four  months,  part 
of  the  ordinary  discipline  to  which  you  were  subjected  ;  or  was  it  something  extra 
in  consequence  of  your  being  put  into  a  punishment  cell,  or  in  any  way  punished?— 
No ;  but  it  was  part  of  the  ordinary  discipline  to  which  I  was  subjected  without  any 
charge  being  brought  against  me  for  having  writing  materials,  or  secreting  anything 
in  my  cell.  The  order  was  given,  for  some  reason  I  do  not  know,  to  search  me  once 
a  day.  I  think,  from  what  I  have  learned  from  prisoners  who  were  out  in  the  world 
at  that  time,  that  the  order  was  given  for  precautionary  purposes  regarding  my 
escape,  because  there  was  some  noise  at  the  time,  they  tell  me,  in  Ireland,  about 
Chester  Castle.  I  think  precautionary  measures  were  taken,  and,  at  this  time,  at 
night.  I  used  to  be  kept  in  one  cell  during  the  day,  and  then  taken  from  that  cell 
and  that  ward  and  taken  to  another  ward,  and  brought  back  in  the  morning  again  to 
the  cell  in  which  I  was  during  the  day. 

9835. — Are  you  aware  whether  the  other  treason-felony  prisoners  were,  during 
the  same  period,  stripped  naked  and  searched? — I  did  not  hear  that  any  of  the  others 
were  searched. 

984L. — Chairman — Are  you  tired — would  you  like  to  sit  down? — Thank  you,  my 
lord.    (Does  not  sit.) 

9845. — Was  there  any  particular  reason  why,  on  that  day,  you  would  not  allow 
yourself  to  be  searched?— Yes,  I  was  disgusted.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
not  do  anything  they  wanted  me  to  do,  and  that  I  would  leave  myself  in  their  hands; 
but  that  I  would  not  use  my  will  and  do  any  thing  they  wanted  me  to  do.  This  all  oc- 
curred after  being  punished  for  idleness  when  I  worked.  I  made  up  my  mind  then 
that  there  was  no  use  in  my  trying  to  get  on  with  any  satisfaction. 

9849. — Chairman— In  page  5  of  your  statement,  you  say,  "the  ordinary  prisoner 
can  pray,  if  so  inclined,  without  an  irreverent  stare ;  but  if  the  treason-felony  prisoner 
prays,  it  is  with  three  officers  sitting  on  the  bench  :n front  of  him,  looking  him  in  the 
face ;  and  if  the  treason  felony  prisoner  goes  to  communion  he  has  an  officer  parad- 
ing him  through  the  chapel,  while  the  ordinary  prisoner  can  approach  the  rails  with- 
out such  distinguished  notice."  First  of  all,  is  it  the  fact  that  when  you  are  in  the 
chapel  three  officers  sit  on  the  bench  opposite  you?— Yes,  my  lord. 

9852.— They  do  not  face  you  but  they  sit  sideways?— Sideways. 

9853.— But  for  a  time  they  sat  facing  you?— Yes,  my  lord. 

9854.— When  you  approach  the  altar  rails,  does  an  officer  accompany  you?— All 
the  other  prisoners,  we  see  them  on  Sundays,  go  up  leaving  the  officer,  but  when  any 
of  the  treason-felony  prisoners  go  to  communion  one  of  those  three  officers  attends  him 
up  to  the  rails  through  the  chapel  and  down  again.  Last  Sunday  week  was  the  last  time 
it  was  done. 

9856.— What  do  you  complain  of  in  regard  to  the  fact  of  prisoners  being  brought 
up  to  the  rails  and  back? — I  do  not  put  it  a?  a  complaint;  1  only  state  it  as  exceptional 
treatment.    I  do  not  make  any  complaid  of  it. 


0' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  377 

9865. — Chairman— Look  at  the  second  paragraph  on  page  5.  You  say  there,  "C 
gtate  that  I  was  one  morning  in  my  cell ;  the  gas  was  turned  off  pretty  early,  and  left 
me  unable  to  read  a  book  I  held  in  my  hand.  Tbere  was  an  iron  blind  on  my  window 
then,  which  has  been  since  taken  off."  Explain  what  exceptional  treatment  you  refer 
to  there? — When  I  came  to  this  prison,  my  lord,  I  was  put  in  this  darkened  cell,  and 
nine  English  prisoners  were  located  in  those  cells,  I  believe,  to  prepare  a  place  forme, 
and  assimilate  their  treatment  to  mine.  One  morning  the  gas  was  turned  off  earlier  than 
would  allow  me  to  read  by  the  daylight,  and  I  objected,  that  not  being  under  punish- 
ment now,  if  I  was  in  an  ordinary  cell  I  would  have  light  to  read  the  book.  I  thought 
I  should  be  allowed  gas  light  under  circumstances  where  others  had  the  daylight. 

9899. — Dr.  Lyons — I  find  that  previously  you  applied  for  extra  library  books.  Did 
you  get  them? — No,  I  did  not,  Mr.  Lyons. 

9900. — I  find  subsequently  that  you  applied  for  permission  to  write  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  State  to  have  more  books  allowed  you.  Was  that  permission  allowed  you? — 
No,  it  was  not,  sir. 

9908. — Mr.  Broderick — The  report  is  this,  "  Assistant  Warder  Thompson  states  that 
0 'Donovan  Rossa  was  very  idle  the  whole  afternoon.  On  my  rebuking  him  for  the 
idle  manner  in  which  he  was  working,  he  replied,  in  a  most  insolent  tone, '  The  wages 
I  get  are  very  poor.'  His  tone  and  manner  were  very  insolent." — I  spoke  to  him  as 
blandly  as  I  could  speak.    "  Oh,"  said  I,  "  Officer,  the  wages  are  rather  light,  too." 

9913.— Chairman — You  wish  to  have  Alison  asked  if  he  had  been  told  by  Pratt  that 
ycu  had  the  newspaper, your  allegation  being  that  Pratt  gave  you  the  newspaper? — 
Yes,  my  lord. 

9yl4.— Dr.  Lyons— What  do  you  expect  to  get  out  by  that?— That  there  was  some 
ccmplicity  between  the  officers  and  the  prisoners  to  get  me  into  trouble. 

9919. — Chairman — You  think  they  had  Pratt  as  a  sort  of  spy  on  you? — As  a  sort 
of  spy  on  me?    Yes,  my  lord. 

9920. — Did  you  tell  the  officer  that  you  were  left-handed? — I  did,  my  lord;  and  he 
told  me  put  the  hammer  in  the  right  hand,  and  he  kept  telling  me  the  stroke  was  light; 
and  after  he  repeated  this  to  me  two  or  three  times  I  only  said,  "Oh,  officer,  the 
wages  are  rather  light,  too;"  just  quietly,  and  without  any  acerbity  in  my  tone. 

9929. — Chairman-  -We  will  go  to  the  next  point.  You  say  that  on  one  occasion  in 
shaving  that  you  cut  your  throat,  that  the  blood  flowed  pretty  freely,  and  that  with 
the  point  of  your  slate  pencil  you  wrote  on  the  door  of  your  cell,  "Le  sang  rouge 
d'Irlande  coule  en  Angleterre,"  thinking  of  an  expression  of  a  duke  of  Burgundy 
dying  on  a  field  of  battle.  What  was  the  result  of  that? — I  went  to  exercise  immedi- 
ately after  that,  my  lord,  and  while  I  was  at  exercise  an  officer  saw  this  inscription 
on  the  door,  and  I  was  put  under  report  for  it,  and  charged  next  day  with  the  offence 
of  having  written  on  my  cell  door  "  The  red  blood  of  Ireland  loitt  rise  in  England." 
I  tried  to  explain  that  that  was  not  what  was  written  on  the  door;  that  it  was  "cow./e," 
and  that  it  should  have  been  taken  down  properly  if  it  was  taken  down  at  all.  I  do 
not  know  how  the  Governor  managed  the  report,  but  I  brought  the  matter  before 
Captain  Gambler  again.  I  do  not  know  how  they  managed  it,  but  I  had  forty-eight 
hours'  bread  and  water  for  it.    It  was  the  Deputy-Governor  that  adjudicated. 

9930. — Mr.  Broderick — The  entry  as  it  stands  here,  Rossa,  in  the  copy  furnished 
to  us  from  the  report  book  is,  "  Writing  on  his  cell  door  with  blood  '  The  red  blood  of 
Ireland  flows  in  England? " — It  was  corrected  by  Captain  Gambier.  Have  you  a  copy 
from  the  original  books  the  day  I  was  before  them,  for  it  was  originally  written  "  will 
rise,"  and  I  made  some  efforts  to  get  it  corrected,  you  will  find,  if  you  see  the  book? 

9931. — Chairman — I  will  take  a  note  to  examine  the  book  at  Millbank,  and  see  if 
there  is  something  in  the  original  report  erased,  and  something  written  instead? — The 
matter  was  corrected  when  I  brought  it  before  Captain  Gambier  or  Mr.  Fagan.  I 
think  that  any  way  they  said  there  was  a  gentleman  in  the  prison  yesterday,  a  colonel, 
that  knew  French,  and  said  something  about  it. 

9932.— Chairman— On  another  occasion  you  say,  "  I  am  on  bread  and  water  in  a 
darkened  cell,  and  to  keep  myself  company  I  am  repeating  some  lines.  The  officer 
addresses  me  and  says,  'You  must  not  be  going  on  this  way.'  I  reply, '  Oh,  by  Jove, 
I  will;'  and  next  day,  in  the  offence  charged  against  me  it  is  '  By  Jesus,  I  will,'  which 
makes  the  affair  look  very  wicked."  When  did  that  occur? — That  occurred  some 
time  after  the  report  of  my  being  punished  for  idleness,  when  I  was  doing  the  work, 
because  I  never  made  any  noise  in  a  separate  cell  or  other  cell  until  after  that;  but  I 
cannot  fix  the  date. 

9934.— Dr.  Greenhow— You  used  the  words  "  By  Jove  ?"— "  By  Jove."  I  am  not 
aware  that  I  ever  used  the  words  "  By  Jesus."  It  is  a  curse  I  am  not  addicted  to.  It 
is  an  expression  I  never  used,  and  I  would  not  like  to  have  it  remain  on  the  prison 
books  that  I  used  it. 

9935. — Dr.  Lyons — You  say  that  you  never  used  the  expression  ?— No  ;  not  as  an 
oath  or  otherwise.  ■  I  did  not  use  the  expression  "  By  Jesus."  Whatever  badness  I  do, 
I  have  not  used  that  curse. 


3TS  O ^  Donovan  IloSids  Prison  Life. 

9936. — Chairman — You  say,  "  To  have  one  officer  set  me  doing  one  thing,  and 
another  another  thing,  and  to  have  the  first  charge  me  with  idleness  for  not  doing  his 
work,  while  doing  the  w  >rk  of  the  second,  is  another  way  of  getting  up  reports." 
When  did  that  occur? — When  I  went  to  Millbank  first,  my  lord. 

9047. — Chairman — You  go  on  to  say,  afterwards,  that  "  while  in  Portland,  the 
rest  of  the  treason-felony  prisoners  woi  king  in  mid-winter  in  a  shed,  I  was  placed 
outside  of  the  shed,  and  prevented  from  having  that  little  shelter  from  the  poison- 
laden  blast  that  the  others  had?" — Yes,  my  lord.  I  recollect  one  morning  coming  out 
from  punishment,  and  at  this  time  my  h  mds  were  in  that  state  that  the  flesh  was 
rotting  oft' my  fingers.  My  block,  where  I  used  to  work  before  in  the  shed,  was  in- 
side, and  all  the  prisoners  worked  inside;  but  this  morning  Officers  Russell  and  Par- 
sons m  tde  me  bring  my  block  into  the  open  air,  outside  the  shed,  and  set  me  to 
work  outside. 

'.;  5j. — "  On  the  20th,  talking  on  the  public  works  ;  the  22d,  talking  on  the  public 
works;  the  20th,  talking  on  the  public  works,  and  insolent  when  spoken  to.  On  the 
22d  '  you  got  "two  days'  punishment  dietin  penal  class,  and  on  the  29th  you  got  three 
days'  punishment  diet  and  fourteen  days'  penal  class  diet."  There  was  appar- 
ently an  accumulation  of  offences  in  the  prison  books  ugainst  you? — Yes;  but  these 
offences  could  be  got  against  any  of  the  other  prisoners  as  well,  for  we  all  used  to 
talk.  But  I  was  made  a  set  on,  and  made  to  stand  whatever  was  to  be  said.  The 
Governor  used  to  come  to  the  works  and  tell  the  officer  to  report  us  for  talking. 

9956. — Chairman — Where  was  this? — In  Portland.  I  recollect  the  Governor  came 
to  the  works  one  day,  and  1  e  said  there  was  talking  going  on  there.  After  he  left,  I 
had  a  conversation  with  the  superior  officer,  and  he  said  he  should  report  some  of 
the  men;  lie  told  it  to  me  himself.  I  said,  "Report  me.  I  do  not  want  to  get  you 
into  any  trouble,"  said  I;  "  I  have  been  talking."  He  took  down  the  names  of  six  or 
seven  to  report,  and  lie  said  he  got  orders  next  day  not  to  report  us.  Just  as  the 
wind  used  to  blow  from  Ireland,  in  these  troublous  times,  they  had  a  bark  at  us,  or 
used  to  deprive  us  of  a  bit  of  our  daily  breid,  or  something. 

9959. — Was  the  punishment  that  was  awarded  to  you  for  that  charge  72  hours  on 
Dread  and  water,  and  14  days  in  solitary  confinement  on  penal  class  diet? — Yes,  that 
w.  s  awarded,  Mr.  De  Vere,  for  that  offence. 

9962. — "Talking  on  the  works,  and  insolence  when  spoken  to,  720  marks; 
ordered  14  days'  penal  class  diet,  84  marks  reduced  for  remission?" — You  must  not 
consider  that  the  loss  of  these  marks  might  not  be  punishment,  for  it  is  puni.-hment, 
and  a  severe  punishment,  because  I  have  not  spent  one  year  in  prison  yet  according 
to  discipline,  although  I  am  five. 

9965. — Then  am  I  to  understand  that  the  punishment  of  the  29th  of  December, 
72  hours'  bread  and  water  and  14  days'  close  confinement  on  penal  class  diet,  had 
reference  to  what  took  place  on  the  works  on  that  day  ? — Yes,  and  certainly  no  inso- 
lence from  me  to  any  officer. 

9970. — Chairman — On  the  occasion  of  your  wife's  applying  to  the  Governor  for 
leave  for  you  to  write  to  her  on  some  matters  connected  with  your  pecuniary  affairs, 
what  d  d  the  Governor  say  to  you? — He  told  me  he  had  this  communication  from  my 
wife,  and  to  write  on  a  slate  what  I  had  to  say,  and  he  would  get  it  copied  and  sent  to 
her.  On  something  else  in  about  a  month  I  was  before  him,  and  I  asked  him  if  he  sent 
this  matter  to  my  wife.  He  said,  "  No,  I  could  not ;  I  could  not  be  sending  your  love 
"  letters  to  your  wife,  and,  besides,"  said  he,  "  it  would  lessen  your  punishment." 

9971. — Are  you  quite  sure  he  used  those  words  ? — Yes,  my  lord,  lam  quite  sure  he 
used  those  words. 

9972. — Dr.  Lyons — Can  you  explain  that? — I  wrote  on  my  slate  what  at  his  re- 
quest I  was  to  write,  and  he  said  he  would  send  it  to  my  wife  ;  and  in  about  a  month 
after,  or  less,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  sent  the  copy,  and  he  said  "  No,  I  could  not  be 
sending  your  love  letters  to  your  wife  ;  if  I  did  it  would  lesson  your  punishment." 

9974. — Mr.  Broderick — Did  you  understand  him  to  mean  that  allowing  you  to  com- 
municate Avith  your  wife  would  be  so  so  far  a  diminution  of  your  punishment? — Yes, 
I  did. 

C976. — As  to  your  treatment  in  English  prisons,  did  3^ou  say  anything? — Yes,  my 
lord,  I  made  some  remark  about  being;  treated  so  in  English  prisons,  and  he  said, 
••  Your  treatment  is  too  good  for  you ;  twenty  5rears  ago  you  would  have  been  hanged." 

9977. — You  say  that  at  Millbank  some  writing  was  found  on  the  person  of  another 
treason-felony  prisoner? — Yes,  my  lord. 

9978 — And  that  you  were  suspected  to  be  the  writer,  though  your  name  was  not 
to  it? — Yes,  my  lord. 

9983. — This  ia  the  day  which  you  speak  of  in  your  statement  as  being  stripped 
three  times? — Yes,  in  twenty-four  hours,  my  lord. 

9984. — Was  there  anything  found  on  you? — Nothing  was  found,  my  lord.  I  was 
then  put  into  a  darkened  cell,  a  retractory  cell,  not  entirely  dark,  a  cell  with  a  hole 


0' Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  379 

in  the  middle  of  it,  and  I  was  left  in  this  cell  for  three  days,  from  Friday  till  Monday. 
Mr.  Handy,  one  of  the  chief  officers,  then  came  and  took  me  out  of  the  cell,  and  said  I 
was  to  go  back  to  my  own  cell — that  is,  to  the  ordinary  cell,  and  that  it  was  decreed 
that  I  was  not  to  he  allowed  to  go  to  Chapel  any  more  in  the  mornings.  That  was, 
I  think,  on  Monday,  my  lord. 

9986. — Mk.  De  Vere— Was  it  with  writing  the  paper  that  you  were  charged? — With 
writing  this  paper  that  was  found  on  a  prisoner  named  James  O'Brien — James  Xavier 
O'Brien.  It  is  not  necessary,  I  suppose,  to  tell  the  Commissioners,  because  it  referred 
to  me ;  whatever  was  written,  was  a  note  that  spoke  about  the  Director  saying 
something  to  the  prisoner  Bossa,  to  me.  The  Director  said  to  me,  "  So  you  think  that 
of  me."  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  in  anything  I  wrote  about  you,  I  wrote  what  I  think."  It 
was  nothing  disrespectful,  but  it  presumed  to  state  some  interview  between  him  and 
me,  and  he  said  he  would,  as  punishment,  stop  a  visit,  the  ticket  of  which  had  been 
sent  to  Mr.  Pigott,  of  the  "  Irishman''''  office,  Dublin;  it  was  previously  sent.  It  was 
on  the  day  I  asked  to  see  the  prisoner  Duffy.  Mr.  Duffy  was  dying,  and  I  said  I  would 
take  seeing  Duffy  as  a  visit  that  was  due  to  me,  and  he  said  I  could  not  see  Duffy. 

9987. — Were  you  manacled  in  the  dark  cell?— Yes,  manacled  two  days  and  two 
nights. 

9989. — Chairman— The  handcuffs  were  not  unloosed  during  meals?— No,  my  lord. 

9990. — Mr.  Broderick. — Had  you  not  destroyed  the  spoon? — Yes. 

9991.— Dr.  Lyons — WTere  the  handcuffs  that  you  had  on,  then,  handcuffs  with  a  small 
link  connecting  them? — No,  they  were  the  close  handcuff's. 

9992.— Quite  close?— Quite  close. 

9993.— So  that  you  could  not  possibly  help  yourself  to  your  food,  as  you  could 
have  done  if  they  were  handcuffs  such  as  we  saw  the  other  day  with  links?— Yes, 
and  as  I  could  not  use  the  hands,  I  had  to  go  on  my  elbows  and  knees,  not  having  a 
spoon. 

9994.— If  you  had  a  spoon  could  you  have  used  it?— Well,  I  suppose  I  could;  but 
in  a  dark  cell 

999.5.— Chairman— It  was  not  an  absolutely  dark  cell?— An  absolutely  dark  cell, 
my  lord,  a  story  under  ground,  such  as  the  cells  you  have  seen  that  I  have  been  in 
over  here,  with  double,  triple  doors. 

9996.— We  have  been  in  that  cell  in  Millbank.— It  is  down  under  ground. 

9997.— We  have  been  shut  up  in  it.— Well,  my  lord,  I  would  not  wish  you  would. 

9998.— You  had  to  go  on  the  floor  to  eat  your  food?— I  had  to  go  on  the  floor  onmr 
elbows  and  knees. 

9993.— Dr  Lyons.— You  lapped  it  out  of  the  dish?— I  lapped  it  out  of  the  dish. 

10000.— What  size  was  the  dish?— A  dish  of  eight  inches,  perhaps,  in  diameter. 

10003.— There  was  no  stool,  or  table,  or  resting  p'ace  on  which  you  could  put  the 
wooden  bowl?— No  resting  place.  There  is  a  bed-board,  but  that  is  only  a  few 
inches  off  the  ground. 

10004.— Was  the  cell  absolutely  dark  at  the  time  ?— Absolutely  dark,  Mr.  Lyons, 
You  could  not  see  anything. 

(Principal -Warder  Dalton  is  called  in  with  handcuffs.) 

10005.— Dr.  Lyons— What  are  those  technically  called?— Figure  of  eight,  sir.  (H» 
put  them  on  Dr.  Lyons.) 

10006.— Are  those  similar  to  the  handcuffs  you  had  on?    Prisoner— Yes,  sir. 

(Dalton  removes  the  handcuffs  and  withdraws  in  order  to  bring  a  different  kind.) 

10007.— Were  the  handcuffs  vou  had  on  closer  or  looser  than  these  ?— They  werq 
not  so  loose  as  these,  for  I  sent  to  the  doctor  to  represent  to  him  that  my  hands  were 
pained  by  one  of  them.  This  was  in  the  dark  cell,  in  the  morning.  I  recollect  ihe 
doctor  came,  and  when  the  lamp  was  held  up  to  my  hand  to  see  it,  I  saw  that  my 
wrist  was  bloody;  that  during  the  night  it  had  wounded  me  some  way.  The  gruel  is 
thick,  and  will  not  run  in  the  dish,  and  you  cannot  sip  it. 

10008.— Chairman— Was  this  for  one  or  two  days?— One  day.  I  was  two  days  in 
the  irons,  but  I  had  not  the  opportunity  of  getting  the  food  the  second  day  in  the 
dark  cell. 

10009 Did  you  get  food  the  second  day  ?— I  did ;  bread  and  water. 

10011 Were  you  able  to  eat  it  with  the  manacles?— Of  course  you  can  eat 

bread. 

10010.— Or  take  a  dish  of  water?— Yes. 

10012— But  you  could  not  have  got  at  the  gruel  ?— I  tried  to  get  at  it,  as  I  tell  you, 
my  lord. 

10013.— Mr.  Brodertck.— Are  you  clear  upon  this  point,  that  you  were  manacled 
during  two  days,  day  and  night?— Not  two  consecutive  days.  There  was  some  day 
between  them;  once,  24  hours,  and  another  24  hours. 


380  CP Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

10014.— But  you  are  quite  clear  that  the  handcuffs  were  on  two  nights?— I  did  not 
get  my  bed  the  first  night;  the  mattress  was  kept.  I  got  only  part  of  the  bedding  the 
first  night;  I  got  the  whole  of  the  bedding  the  second  night. 

(Dalton  here  returns  with  handcuffs,  puts  a  small  pair  on  Dr.  Lyons,  and,  after 
taking  them  off,  withdraws.) 

10015. — Dr.  Lyons — The  cell  that  we  examined  was,  I  think,  a  very  smallone. 
Did  you  find  that  you  had  room  to  lie  down  on  the  bed-board  of  that  cell?— No;  I 
noticed  that  it  was  very  small.    I  think  it  was  rather  short,  too. 

10016.— What  is  your  height?— My  height  is  about  5  feet  10, 1  think. 

10017.— The  length  of  the  bed  was  5  feet  4  inches?— I  recollect — it  made  a  fixed  im- 
pression on  my  mind — the  cold  of  the  night,  because  when  the  clothes  got  off  I  could 
not  put  them  on  again. 

10018. — Your  height  is  recorded  5  feet  9^  inches? — I  am  growing  down,  I 
suppose. 

10019.— The  length  of  that  bed  is  5  feet  4  inches  ;  did  you  find  that  you  had 
great  difficulty  in  lying  down  in  that  space  ? — Yes ;  there  is  something  in  my  mind 
that  it  was  not  long  enough,  or  something  uncomfortable. 

10020.— Did  it  appear  to  you  to  have  added  to  your  suffering  in  that  cell,  that  you 
could  not  lie  down  at  length  on  the  board? — Yes,  Mr.  Lyons;  but  what  particularly 
impressed  itself  on  me  was  the  cold  during  the  night,  for  the  bed-clothes  fell  off,  and 
I  could  not  pull  them  on  as  I  could  not  use  the  hands. 

10030.— Then,  on  the  20th,  it  is  stated  you  further  broke  the  trap-door,  wrote  on 
the  walls  and  the  door,  shouting  "lama  Fenian,"  and  singing  Fenian  songs? — That 
is  an  expression  I  never  used.  Of  course,  Mr.  Broderick,  I  was  what  is  called  a  "  Fe- 
nian," but  I  never  said  it  or  sang  Fenian  songs. 

10031.— Chairman— You  distinctly  deny  that?— I  distinctly  deny  that  I  ever 
made  use  of  the  expression  "  I  am  a  Fenian,"  either  in  prison  or  out  of  prison. 

10032. — Dr.  Lyons — Did  you  sing  Fenian  songs? — I  cannot  sing.  I  do  not  know 
what  are  called  Fenian  songs,  Mr.  Lyons. 

10033. — You  cannot  sing  ? — I  cannot  sing.  Whenever  any  of  my  friends,  who 
know  me,  would  hear  of  my  singing,  they  would  burst  out  laughing  at  the  idea 
of  it. 

10034.— Mr.  Broderick— On  the  23d,  "  Disfiguring  a  pint,  writing  on  the  cell 
wall,  filling  the  key-hole  with  pieces  of  a  broken  bowl?"— My  lord,  I  think  I  tell 
you  in  the  report  that,  after  being  obliged  to  go  on  my  face  and  hands  to  eat,  I 
broke  the  bowl. 

10035. — Chairman — How  did  you  succeed  in  breaking  it? — With  my  feet. 

10036. — And  did  you  put  pieces  of  it  in  the  key-hole  ?— I  did,  my  lord. 

10039.— In  the  paragraph  at  the  bottom  of  page  8,  you  say,  "One  day  I  was 
yoked  to  a  cart  with  those  men,  drawing  stones,  and  I  had  a  noose  of  the  rope  over 
my  neck.  The  car  heeled  over,  the  shaft  flew  high  in  the  air,  and  the  rope  slipped 
off  my  neck  without  doing  me  any  injury :  the  danger  was  in  its  hitching  on  my 
neck.  A  second  time  that  day  the  car'heeled  over  before  its  time,  and  at  this  occur- 
rence I  was  in  no  danger,  for  it  had  arrived  at  its  destination,  and  the  rope  was  off  my 
neck  or  breast."  Will  you  tell  us  what  occurred  at  that  time  ?— I  was,  my  lord,  the 
morning  in  question,  yoked  to  this  cart  with  a  noose  of  rope  around  me. 

10040. — With  other  men? — With  other  men,  my  lord.  The  cart  was  full  of  stones, 
and  we  were  drawing  it ;  two  men  were  detailed  to  keep  the  cart  from  heeling,  or  "  tip- 
ping," as  they  call  it  in  prison,  I  believe  ;  I  do  not  know  whether  they  intended  it  or 
not,  but  the  car  tipped  or  heeled,  the  shafts  flew  up  in  the  air,  the  rope  round 
my  neck  was  quickly  taken  off,  and,  had  it  hitched  on  my  neck,  I  would  have 
been  hurt. 

10046. — Mr.  De  Vere — You  say  that  you  were  afraid  to  work  with  those  men?— 
After  that,  Mr.  De  Vere,  I  applied  to  the  Governor  to  be  allowed  to  work  in  my 
cell,  and  not  be  put  amongst  those  prisoners,  and  he  would  not  give  me  permission. 

10047. — That  is,  you  wished  not  to  be  sent  to  work  with  those  prisoners  who  put 
you  in  such  danger?— Yes,  I  did  not  like  to  be  with  them. 

10048. — Was  your  application  granted  to  you? — No,  it  was  not,  Mr.  De  Vere. 

10049 — How  often  did  you  ask  it? — I  asked  about  three  times.  I  asked  the  Di- 
rector. The  Director  only  made  matters  worse,  for  he  issued  orders  that  these  men 
were  to  be  set  a  certain  distance  apart,  and  worked  so  that  there  should  be  no  an- 
noyance given  to  me ;  and  these  men  being  set  apart  in  that  way,  and  prevented 
from  speaking,  they  got  more  unpleasant,  and  I  felt  the  position  more  than  before. 

10050. — Did  you  get  any  punishment  for  refusing  to  labor  with  these  men  ? — On 
twt>  occasions  I  refused  to  labor  before  the  1st  of  June,  and  got  punishment — three 
days  at  one  time  and  two  dajrs  at  another. 

10051 — Was  your  reason  for  refusing  to  work  with  them  that  you  considered  your- 
self in  danger  with  them? — Yes,  in  danger,  and  in  a  mosl  unpleasant  position;  these 


O*  Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life.  381 

men,  feeling  that  they  were  kept  in  a  state  of  punishment,  kept  isolated  from  all  the 
other  prisoners,  even  in  the  chapel,  and  kept  in  punishment  besides,  and  they  were 
•made  to  see  that  I  was  the  cause  of  that  isolation,  because,  any  days  that  I  was  kept 
in  on  bread  and  water,  they  were  taken  outside  the  prison  walls  to  work  but  never 
taken  out  when  I  was  amongst  them.  I  complained  of  that  to  the  Governor  and 
Director,  that  it  was  not  fair  to  show  them  that  I  was  the  cause  of  their  being  sub- 
mitted to  such  restriction. 

10054.— Chairman — "  Defacing  his  gratuity  and  library  cards,  writing  on  his  cell 
door,  and  drawing  on  his  cell  floor." 

10055.— Dr.  Lyons— That  is  on  May  the  6th  ?— "  Drawing  on  the  cell  floor  "was 
making  some  geometrical  figures  while  I  was  on  bread  and  water ;  and  "  defacing  his 
gratuity  and  library  cards"— that  was,  my  lord,  in  consequence  of  my  inabilitv  to 
get  the  Governor  to  take  down  my  words  in  writing — the  answers  to  the  charges.  This 
morning,  I  happened  to  get  a  bit  of  lead ;  I  found  it  in  the  yard,  and  I  brought  it  in 
with  me,  and  on  those  two  cards  that  were  in  my  cell,  my  lord,  I  wrote  what  I  in- 
tended to  be  my  reply  to  the  charge  against  me,  in  order  that  I  would  get  him  to 
take  it  down  in  his  book,  the  state  I  was  in,  and  wiry  I  did  certain  things;  and  if  he 
did  not  do  that,  that  I  would  be  reported  for  writing  on  the  gratuity  card. 
When  I  was  taken  before  the  Governor,  and  asked  what  I  had  to  say,  I  took  the  cards 
out  of  my  pocket  and  said,  "  I  put  it  on  these  cards  "  ;  but  he  would  not  take  down 
the  reply.  I  pressed  him  as  much  as  I  could  to  take  down  the  reply  from  the  cards, 
but  he  would  not  do  it.  The  report  is  here — "  defacing  his  library  and  gratuity 
cards  "  ;  of  course  they  were  defaced,  but  I  tell  you  under  what  circumstances. 

10062. — Chairman — What  happened  on  May  the  25th? — The  24th  was  a  Sunday, 
my  lord ;  I  was  at  the  chapel,  and  at  the  chapel  I  put  one  leg  across  the  other. 

10063. — Dr.  Lyons — Here  is  a  report  for  disorderly  conduct  during  divine  service, 
and  a  further  report  for  shouting,  at  6  p.  m.  ?— Perhaps,  my  lord,  that  will  bear  out 
what  I  was  going  to  tell  you. 

10065. — Chairman — What  had  you  done  at  chapel  ?— For  putting  my  legs  across — I 
believe  he  charged  me  with  looking  at  another  prisoner.  When  I  came  from  the 
chapel  I  was  reported  for  the  offence,  my  lord.  My  cell  was  cleared  out  of  all  its 
contents.  It  seems  I  was  under  report  under  such  circumstances.  I  did  not  commit 
a  great  offence  at  the  chapel ;  but  as  I  saw  myself  under  report,  I  made  some  noise 
in  my  cell  by  reciting ;  I  put  no  restraint  on  myself  when  I  saw  that  the  men  were 
determined  on  persecuting  me.  This  noise  was  added  to  the  report  next  day,  and 
now  it  appears  the  whole  report  was  for  shouting  and  singing,  and  highly  im- 
proper language.  I  did  not  know  what  the  highly  improper  language  was.  The 
officers  of  the  ward,  when  I  was  before  the  Governor,  reported  that  I  was  singing 
treason  songs.  I  told  the  Governor  distinctly,  that  what  I  was  repeating  that  evening 
was  this  quotation  from  Cowper : 

"  We  have  no  slaves  at  home  ;  then  why  abroad? 

And  they  themselves,  once  ferried  o'er  the  wave 

That  parts  us,  are  emancipate  and  loosed. 

Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  England ;  if  their  lungs 

Receive  our  air,  that  moment  they  are  free : 

They  touch  our  country,  and  their  shackles  fall." 
It  is  in  Cowper's  "  Task." 

10066. — Chairman — I  know  the  passage : 

"  Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  England ;  if  their  lungg 

Receive  our  air,  that  moment  they  are  free  : 

They  touch  our  country,  and  their  shackles  fall. 

That's  noble,  and  bespeaks  a  nation  proud 

And  jealous  of  the  blessing." 

10067. — Dr.  Lyons — On  the  24th,  you  were  removed  to  the  dark  cell.  On  the  25th 
there  was  a  report  made  in  reference  to  the  24th :  "  J.  O'D.  Rossa,  reported  for  de- 
facing his  cell  by  writing  on  the  back  of  the  door."  And  further:  "  J.  O'D.  Rossa, 
two  days'  punishment  diet  and  removed  from  dark  cell,  by  order  of  the  Governor, 
12:20,  noon  "? — On  one  occasion,  my  lord,  I  distinctly  recollect  that  I  was  put  into  this 
dark  cell  without  making  any  noise  whatever ;  that  Mr.  Alison  accused  me  of  repeat- 
ing in  the  cell  when  I  was  only  speaking  in  a  whisper  ;  he  said  I  should  not  be  going 
on  so;  he  went  outside  the  cell  and  listened;  I  thought  what  I  was  saying  in  a  whis- 
per could  not  be  heard  outside  ;  he  listened  outside,  and  he  came  in  arid  sent  me  to  a 
dark  cell. 

10068. — Chairman — When  was  that? — On  one  of  these  occasions  when  I  was  only 
speaking  in  a  whisper,  my  lord. 

10069. — Did  Allison  send  you  to  the  dark  cell  without  speaking  to  the  Governor 
at  all?— Yes,  my  lord. 


382  O*  Donovan  Rossa?s  Prison  Li^e. 

10070. — How  was  that? — He  threatened  that  if  I  did  not  stop  whispering  to  myself 
he  would  put  me  in  the  dark  cell.  He  went  outside  and  listened.  I  kept  whispering 
to  myself,  not  above  a  whisper,  and  he  opened  the  cell  door  and  put  me  in  the  dark 
cell  for  three  days.    On  other  occasions  I  used  to  make  a  noise. 

10071. — How  do  you  know  that  he  did  not  communicate  with  the  Governor  about 
it? — Because  he  was  listening  at  the  door. 

10072. — He  put  you  at  once  into  the  dark  cell? — Yes,  my  lord,  he  did. 

10073. — He  did  not  go  away  from  the  door  ? — No,  my  lord,  he  did  not  go  away  from 
the  door. 

10076. — Mr.  Broderick — You  have  been  often  in  the  dark  cells,  I  am  afraid.  Have 
you  ever  been  brought  before  the  Governor  and  asked  what  you  had  to  say  before 
being  sent  to  the  dark  cell? — Never,  sir. 

10077. — Have  you  always  been  taken  to  the  dark  cell  on  the  report  of  a  warder? 
— Yes,  sir. 

10078. — And  without  giving  you  an  opportunity  of  saying  anything  y  ourself  about 
it? — Yes,  I  have,  sir,  always.  I  got  three  days'  dark  cells  in  Portland — it  is  recorded 
in  the  books — for  refusing  to  salute  the  Governor,  and  using  what  is  called  insulting 
language  in  getting  the  affair  of  the  amour  corrected,  my  lord. 

10079. — Dr.  Greenhow — In  one  of  your  own  letters  published  in  the  papers  you 
say,  "  Let  them  flog  us  and  starve  us  legally."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  were  you  flogged? 
"—No,  sir. 

10080. — What  do  you  mean  by  "  Starve  us  legally?" — Well,  I  suppose  I  meant  by 
that  that  I  was  starved  without  sufficient  cause — for  instance,  being  starved  on  a 
tharge  of  idleness  when  I  had  my  work  done.    Would  you  show  me  the  passage  ? 

10081. — It  is  a  passage  from  your  printed  letter  published  in  the  Irish  papers.  I 
Aave  taken  down  the  exact  words. 

10083. — Have  you  any  complaint  with  regard  to  the  quality  of  your  food? — No  ;  I 
make  no  complaint  as  to  the  quality  of  my  food;  /  am  here  under  the  treatment  of  a 
convict,  an  English  convict,  and  when  the  authorities  consider  that  I  am  a  fit  subject  for 
that  treatment  I  am  not  going  to  speak  or  to  complain  of  food  or  anything  connected  with 
it ;  but  I  always  claim  a  right  to  speak  of  the  treatment  I  receive.  They  may  treat  me 
any  way  they  please;  my  duty  is  to  bear  what  they  impose  on  me  and  not  to  complain. 

10088. — Was  that  occasion  when  you  found  the  hide  in  the  soup  the  same  as  when 
O'Connell  found  the  piece  of  hide?— Oh,  I  think  not. 

10092. — You  say  in  the  same  letter  that  when  you  were  handcuffed  in  Millbank, 
the  officer  seized  you  by  the  throat  and  used  a  club  to  strike  you? — Yes, that  is  so.  I 
cried  "  Coward,  to  strike  a  man  chained."  He  raised  his  club  to  strike  me,  and  the 
other  officer  said,  "  Don't  hurt  him." 

10121.— You  say,  in  page  3  ol  your  statement,  "  My  letters  are  suppressed  be- 
cause I  speak  of  my  treatment,  and  the  British  Government  defame  my  character  by 
saying  that  it  is  because  I  have  told  lies  in  them."  What  do  you  refer  to  there  ?— I 
refer  to  the  statement  that  I  gave  you  a  few  days  ago,  which,  I  understand,  emanates 
from  the  Secretary  of  State,  in  which  he  states  that  my  letters  to  my  wife  were  sup- 
pressed because  they  contained  falsehoods.  That  is  in  one  of  the  paragraphs  of  a 
paper  I  gave  you,  and  I  have  very  good  reason  to  believe,  from  the  internal  evidence 
in  that  paper,  that  it  is  an  official  paper,  because  it  speaks  of  things  that  could  not 
be  spoken  of  by  any  one  except  a  person  connected  with  the  Government.  I  gave  you 
those  letters  to  my  wife,  just  to  challenge  any  allegation  as  to  their  containing  any 
falsehoods. 

10123. — Dr.  Lyons — You  made  a  statement  in  a  paper  I  hold  in  my  hand,  in  which 
you  applied  for  permission  to  write  to  your  mother? — Yes. 

10124. — Was  that  permission  granted  to  you? — It  was  not,  sir;  I  applied  in  Port- 
land for  permission;  I  applied  in  M.llbankfor  permission,  and  it  was  not  granted  to  me. 
I  did  that  as  a  matter  of  duty,  because  she  is  an  old  woman,  perhaps  seventy  years  of 
age. 

10125. — You  did  not  get  permission? — No,  I  did  not  get  permission. 

10145.— Was  that  suppressed  letter  not  furnished  to  you  amongst  the  others? — No, 
it  is  not. 

10146. — It  is  not  amongst  those  supplied  to  you?— It  is  not;  and  it  is  no  wonder 
that  I  would  feel  a  little  annoyed.  Of  course,  you  cannot  take  into  consideration  or 
calculate  those  things;  the  fact  of  my  wife  thinking  I  am  not  writing  to  her,  and  of 
my  thinking  she  is  not  writing  to  me.  Here  is  a  passage  from  her  letter  in  America: 
"  If  what  the  Governor  said  was  true  about  your  breaking  the  rules  so  often,  you  cer- 
tainly did  not,  or  do  not,  care  to  write  to  me.  I  do  not  mean  to  write  a  long  letter 
until  I  hear.  Tell  me,  have  you  grown  really  so  indifferent  regarding  what  I  think  or 
feel  that  you  make  no  efforts  to  gain  the  good  will  of  your  jailers  and  officers?" 

10147.— Is  that  from  your  wife  from  America?— That  is  from  my  wife,  sir.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  I  would  feel  annoyed  at  those  things. 


O*  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life.  383 

10158. — You  have  been  in  four  convict  prisons.  In  which  of  them  do  you  consider 
you  have  been  most  kindly  treated,  and  in  which  must  harshly? — Well,  it  is  much  the 
same  in  all,  Mr.  Broderick. 

10168. — Dr.  Lyons — Is  there  anything  in  that  (handing  the  prisoner  a  document) 
that  you  wish  to  find  out? — As  you  told  me  on  the  first  day,  my  lord,  that  anything 
tending  to  corroborate  another  prisoner  would  be  received — 

10169. — Chairman — That  another  prisoner  could  be  called  to  corroborate  any 
statement  you  may  make  ? — Yes,  my  lord.  You  may  go  to  prisons  abroad.  Prisoner 
William  Roantree  may  lay  before  you  the  treatment  that  he  was  subjected  to.  He 
was  afflicted  with  hoemorrhoids  and  piles  in  Portland,  and  could  not  get  relief.  I  saw 
him  one  day  in  Portland  works,  and  he  put  his  hand  down  his  boot,  down  the  side  of 
his  trowsers,  and  pulled  up  his  hand  all  dripping  with  blood;  not  spotted  with  blood, 
but  actually  dripping  with  blood,  and  he  said  he  was  that  way  for  months. 

10183. — Mr.  Db  Vere — You  were  twelve  months  in  Millbank  with  the  gas  lighted 
in  your  cell  at  night? — Yes. 

10189. — We  have  taken  a  note  of  anything  that  you  have  which  may  be  a  matter 
for  inquiry.  We  have  down  many  things  that  you  said  about  Portland,  to  which  we 
shall  be  obliged  to  refer.  We  will  examine  the  Governor  and  the  officers  whose  names 
you  have  mentioned  to  us? — There  is  one  matter  that  occurred  to  me,  my  lord,  in 
Portland.  I  point  to  it  in  one  of  those  letters  that  I  have  given  in,  and  I  have  not 
been  asked  about  it,  my  lord. 

10190. — What  is  it? — About  removing  a  large  stone  one  day  on  a  barrow  going  up 
the  quarry  slope.  I  hurt  my  finger,  and  another  prisoner  seeing  it  came  to  take  part 
of  the  barrow.  The  officer  was  looking  on,  and  said  to  me,  without  any  provocation 
whatever,  "  You  are  a  man  that  would  suck  another  man's  blood." 

10191. — Dr.  Lyons — Who  said  that  to  you? — Gunning  was  his  name,  Mr.  Lyons.  I 
went  to  the  Governor  the  next  day  and  a^ked  him  if  thai  was  language  that  could  be 
used  towards  me.  The  Governor  took  the  officer  aside,  and  questioned  him,  and  then 
said  to  me,  "  You  were  not  sent  here  to  be  too  sensitive,  and  nothing  can  make  you 
more  degraded  than  you  are." 

10192. — Are  you  quite  sure  that  that  occurred? — I  am  quite  sure  that  Governor 
Clifton  said  this  to  me;  also,  "I  suppose  you  expect  the  officers  to  tip  their  caps  to 
you?"    Mr.  Clifton  said  these  words  to  me. 

10205. — Dr.  Lyons — Can  3tou  give  any  account  with  regard  to  Muloahy's  having 
spat  blood  while  he  was  at  the  works  at  Portland? — I  cannot,  Mr.  Lyons. 

10207. — You  did  not  see  him  on  any  occasion,  in  Portland,  spitting  blood? — No,  I 
did  not.  In  that  memorial  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  Mr.  Lyons,  if  you  have  gone 
over  it,  there  might  be  some  matters  in  it  that  would  be  relevant  to  the  inquiry. 

10217. — Dr.  Greenhow — We  are  desirous  of  ascertaining  the  truth? — I  made  up 
my  mind  to  lay  myself  in  your  hands,  and  to  ask  the  request  of  you,  if  I  have 
not  satisfied  you  fully,  of  giving  me  an  an  opportunity  of  having  those  few  things 
asked. 

10218. — Dr.  Lyons — *s  it  is  easier  to  make  out  the  points  by  means  of  a  printed 
than  a  written  paper,  I  leave  ray  printed  copy  of  your  statement  in  your  hands 
until  to-morrow,  for  the  purpose  of  facilitating  you  in  your  preparations  for 
your  further  examination.  (Hands  prisoner  printed  statement.) — Thank  you,  Mr. 
Lyons. 

10246. — Will  you,  from  the  facts  that  you  have  before  you,  put  in  a  return  of  the 
number  of  days  that  you  have  been  actually  on  bread  and  water  during  the  whole 
period  of  your  imprisonment,  the  number  of  days  that  you  have  been  on  penal  diet, 
the  number  of  days  that  you  have  been  in  dark  cells,  and  the  number  of  days,  ac- 
cording to  your  own  statement,  that  you  have  been  in  handcuffs? — Yes,  I  can  do 
that.  Mr.  Lyons. 

10261. — Chairman— Under  what  circumstances  were  you  dashed  against  the 
wall? — When  I  was  stripped  of  the  clothes,  when  the  officers  took  the  clothes  off  and 
threw  them  out;  I  was  stretched  on  the  floor  of  the  cell  when  all  was  off.  The 
last  man  was  at  the  door,  and,  as  I  was  getting  up,  he  turns  back  and  dashes  me 
against  the  wall. 

10262. — Were  you  not  trying  to  prevent  the  door  being  closed? — No,  I  was  not. 

10263. — Chairman — Were  you  lying  on  the  floor? — I  was  lying  on  the  floor,  and 
got  up. 

10267. — Dr.  Lyons — Did  he  push  you  with  force  or  violence? — With  great  violence, 
dashed  me  against  the  wall.  My  hand  was  cut  the  next  day.  In  examining  these 
men  here,  my  lord,  have  you  learned  from  them  any  expressions  that  I  used  towards 
them,  anything  regarding  my  being  violent,  or  anything  that  way? 

10268. — Chairman — Yes.  By  one  man  it  has  been  stated  that  in  the  struggle  you 
seized  Alison  by  the  private  parts. — Oh  no,  my  lord,  such  a  thing  was  never  attrib- 
utable to  me.    I  never  did  such  a  thing.    I  caught  him  by  the  coat  tails,  that  way, 


384  Cf  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

and  he  told  Giddings  to  strike  me,  and  Giddings  struck  me  on  the  hand  with  his 
staff,  and  I  let  go. 

10271. — Chairman — It  is  fair  to  say  that  Alison  did  not  say  it  himself. — I  did  not 
attempt  any  such  thing. 

10272. — Allison  himself  made  no  complaint  of  it  to  us. 

10272. — Mr.  De  Verk — I  do  not  think  Kossa  need  trouble  himself  about  that. 

102-4. — As  to  the  gross  insolence  to  Captain  Hardy,  that  is  one  thing  that  I 
wished  to  know  what  it  was,  and  perhaps  it  was  not  right  for  me  to  speak  o  him 
what  I  did,  but  he  came  in  the  usual  way  to  pay  the  usual  visit.  I  was  in  a  very  un- 
comfortable position,  and  I  said,  "  Governor,  I  suppose  there  is  no  chance  for  a  man 
getting  eggs  for  breakfast  here?"    And  they  have  it  down  "  Extra  breakfast." 

10235 Dr.  Lyons — What  you  said  was  eggs  for  breakfast? — Eggs  for  breakfast. 

That  was  the  ridiculousness  of  it — eggs  in  a  dark  cell. 

10286. — Why  did  you  say  that? — With  the  position  in  which  I  was  placed  it  was  a 
poor  place  to  joke,  but  I  do  not  like  to  be  reported  in  those  books  for  gross  insolence. 

1028V. — Was  that  all  you  said? — That  was  all  I  did  say. 

10238. —  Are  you  quite  sure? — Oh,  quite  sure.  They  themselves  say  I  said  no 
more  than  "  extra  breakfast." 

102S9. — Chairman — Is  there  any  other  point  upon  which  you  wish  to  speak? — 
Well,  my  lord,  as  to  threatening  to  strike,  I  do  not  recollect  that  I  made  any  sucu 
threat.  Whatever  I  have  done  in  prison  I  do  not  like  to  make  myself  ridiculous,  to 
threaten  to  assault  men  who  came  in  with  certain  orders. 

10290. — Mr.  Broderick — It  may  be  satisfactory  to  you  to  know  that  Alison  stated 
you  did  not  strike  or  attempt  to  strike  any  one,  but  merely  gave  them  a  good  push. 

10291. — Dr.  Lyons. — He  said  that  you  heaved  them  off,  one  in  one  direction,  and 
the  other  in  another  ? — That  is  perhaps,  the  fairest  account  to  give  of  it,  but  I  did 
not  draw  my  hand  to  strike  a  blow,  nor  did  I  strike  them. 

10292. — Chairman — We  will  take,  as  the  version  of  what  occurred,  that  which  was 
given  by  Alison? — Well,  about  the  "  assassin  dogs,"  my  lord,  and  throwing  the  pot 
when  the  door  was  closed  at  the  officer? 

10293. — 'the  Commission  has  considered  what  you  are  now  saying,  and  instructed 
me  to  say,  that  we  think  we  know  exactly  the  entire  of  this  occurrence.  We  have 
had  Alison's  evidence,  which  was  given  very  fairly,  and  does  not  represent  you  as 
using  the  violence  that  one  or  two  others  speak  of;  and  we  are  satisfied  that  there  is 
n  -thing  in  that  transaction  which  calls  on  us,  injustice  to  you,  to  go  further? — Thank 
you,  my  lord. 

10294. — I  may  say,  also,  that  in  other  points  in  which  your  evidence  has  been  in  any 
way  contradicted,  or  any  different  statements  given,  we  have  asked  all  the  questions 
which  we  think  necessary  to  have  put,  in  fairness  to  you,  of  the  other  witnesses,  and  of 
rourself  also.  We  do  not  think,  therefore,  that  fairness  calls  upon  us  to  go  any  fur- 
ther in  reference  to  these  points.  I  mention  that  to  you,  so  as  to  leave  it  to  you  tc 
consider  whether  you  think  it  necessary  to  put  them  further  before  us.  We  do  nol 
think  it  necessary  to  put  further  questions  concering  them? — No,  my  lord,  I  would 
not  be  doing  justice  to  my  feelings  in  going  further  after  what  you  have  said.  As  to 
the  bathing  in  dirty  water,  my  lord 

10295. — That  is  a  point  we  have  inquired  into  in  this  and  other  prisons? — It  oc- 
curred to  me  in  Millbank. 

10296. — Chairman — We  are  going  to  Millbank  and  will  inquire. 

10307. — Mr.  De  Vere — That"  matter,  I  may  say  to  you,  has  been  fully  seen  into — 
Thank  you,  Mr.  De  Vere.  Have  you,  my  lord,  asked  a  question  as  to  what  I  submit- 
ted in  the  statement  as  to  the  officers  looking  at  me  bathing? 

10308 Chairman — We  have  examined  and  shall  ask  further  questions.     There  i- 

great  discrepancy  as  to  how  they  stood? — While  I  was  in  the  bath,  my  lord,  the  offl 
cer  stood  at  the  door,  and  kept  his  eyes  on  me,  looking  at  me. 

10311. — Dr.  Lyons — What  do  you  object  to  in  it? — 1  only  just  state  it,thatitwas  a 
matter  which  was  painful  to  me. 

10312. — It  is  the  indelicacy  of  the  act  that  you  complain  gof? — The  indelicacy  of 
\he  act. 

10322. — Dr.  Greenhow — The  only  notice  here  is,  "  wetting  his  coir  before  picking 
"it,"  and  the  only  punishment  is  "admonished?" — Well,  my  lord,  but  the  officers  told 
me  to  wet  the  coir. 

10323. — Dr.  Lyons— They  told  you  to  wet  it? — Yes,  to  wet  it;  that  it  would  allay 
the  dust  that  was  rising  from  it,  and  make  it  easier  to  be  picked ;  and  Brown  admitted 
mat  he  told  me  to  wet  it.  Two  others  denied  they  did — Cooper  and  another.  The 
very  officer  that  told  me  to  wet  the  coir,  my  lord,  reported  me  for  wetting  it. 

10359. — Dr.  Lyons — During  the  time  that  you  were  thirty-five  days  in  handcuffs, 
were  you  taken  to  Mass  on  any  of  the  Sundays? — No,  sir. 

10360.— During  the  subsequent  time  that  you  spent  on  bread  and  water  diet,  were 
rou  taken  to  Mass  ?— No,  sir. 


O'*  Donovan  Bosscfs  Prison  Life.  385 

10361.— Were  you  taken  to  Mass  during  any  part  of  the  time  that  you  were  in 
penal  class  ? — No,  sir,  I  was  not  taken  to  the  chapel. 

10362.— Dr.  GivEENhow— Did  you  consider  that  a  hardship  ?— Well,  I  did  not,  Dr. 
Greenhow.  I  do  not  give  you  that  answer  with  the  view  of  being  disrespectful  on  relig- 
ious matters  or  things  I  do  not  want  to  get  into.  Has  the  doctor  been  asked  if  he  ever 
saw  me  violent,  or  insolent,  or  disrespectful  ? 

10364.— We  are  going  to  examine  him  presently,  and  if  you  have  any  questions  to 
put  to  him  you  can  put  them  tbrough  me? — Well,  I  will  reserve  that  matter,  my  lord.  I 
recollect  that  on  the  report  of  Knell,  I  recollect  asking  what  did  he  mean  by  making 
noise  in  the  cell,  and  his  answer  was  that  I  was  walking  up  and  down  mv  cell. 

10380.— Chairman— There  are  some  questions  which  you  wish  to  put  to  the 
doctor,  I  bel  eve  ? — Yes,  my  lord. 

10381. — Then  you  can  remain  here. 

10836 — Dr.  Lyons — Now,  O'Donovan  Eossa,  can  you  state  to  me  the  number  of 
days  that  you  were  on  bread  and  water  in  the  several  prisons  in  which  you  have  been 
confined? — One  hundred  and  twenty-three  days,  Mr.  Lyons. 

10837. — Will  you  specify  the  prisons  and  the  number  of  days  in  each? — Portland 
Prison,  twenty-nine  days  ;  Mill  bank  Prison,  thirty-two  days ;  Chatham  Prison,  sixty- 
two  days. 

10839. — Dr.  Lyons — Can  you  state  how  many  days  you  were  on  penal  class  diet  in 
dark  cell,  what  variety  of  diet  you  were  on,  and  in  what  prisons  you  were  so  con- 
fined?— In  Portland  Prison,  penal  class  diet,  thirty-three  days;  in  Millbank  Prison, 
one  hundred  and  fifty-eight  days ;  and  in  Chatham  forty  days. 

10841. — Dr.  Lyons — What  total  does  that  make  on  penal  class  diet? — Two  hundred 
and  thirty-one  days. 

10845. — Can  you  now  state  how  many  days  you  were  confined  with  your  hands 
tied  behind  your  back? — Thirty-seven  days,  Mr.  Lyons. 

10848.— On  what  diet  were  you  during  those  thirty-seven  days?— On  light  labor  diet 
during  thirty -five  of  them,  that  was  awaiting  report,  and  on  bread  and  water  during 
two  of  them. 

10849.— How  many  days  and  nights  were  you  confined  with  your  hands  tied  night 
and  day? — Two  days  and  two  nights,  Mr.  Lyons. 

10852. — With  what  sort  of  manacles? — Tight  manacles.  There  was  no  link  be- 
tween the  cuffs.    No.  8,  is  what  the  warder  called  them,  I  think  you  said. 

10853. — How  many  days  were  you  in  absolutely  dark  cells  in  the  various  prisons 
that  you  have  been  in? — I  think  twenty-eight  days  I  allowed. 

10855.— I  cannot  recollect  the  number  here.  I  was  put  in  dark  cells  so  often,  and 
taken  out  so  often,  that  I  took  no  account  of  them. 

10856.— How  many  nights  of  this  period  were  you  without  a  bed?— I  was  two 
nights  here  without  a  bed,  without  rug  or  blanket  or  anything ;  and  I  was  fourteen 
nights  in  the  several  prisons  without  a  mattress  and  sheets. 

10857. — Were  you  sent  back  to  Millbank  for  a  second  period  of  probation  of  twelve 
months? — Yes ;  I  was  sent  back  from  Portland. 

10858.— Did  you  spend  that  twelve  months  in  Millbank? — Yes,  twelve  months  and 
a  few  days. 

EXAMINATION   OF   CAPTAIN   DU   CANE. 

1. — Chairman — Your  are  Chairman  of  the  Directors  of  Convict  Prisons,  I  believe? 
— I  am. 

56 — What  was  the  total  number  of  treason-felony  convicts  received  into  English 
prisons  ?— There  are  twenty-one  in  English  prisons  now;  forty -five  were  sent  to  West- 
ern Australia ;  two  have  been  discharged  on  license,  and  one  is  dead.  One  was  trans- 
ferred to  Mountjoy  Prison,  and  sixteen  have  received  conditional  pardons ;  that  makes 
ninety-one  as  the  total  number  who  have  passed  through  the  English  prisons. 

93. — Is  it  possible  that  a  very  prolonged  period  of  bread  and  water  diet  could 
have  been  enforced,  as  was  alleged  by  some  of  the  friends  of  the  political  prisoners? 
— They  could  not  have  been  longer  than  twenty-eight  days  on  punishment  diet,  cer- 
tainly; but  they  might  have  been  on  penal  class  diet  for  six  months. 

115. — Dr.  Lyons — It  is  alleged  that  the  prisoners  have  been  made  to  clean  privies 
other  than  their  own ;  has  that  been  the  case?— I  think  what  that  refers  to  is  this: 
When  these  prisoners  were  at  work  out  on  the  works  at  Portland,  there  is  a  certain 
privy  which  is  set  apart  for  the  use  of  the  prisoners  on  the  works.  I  recollect  some 
question  about  that,  but  precisely  what  it  was  I  cannot  say.  I  can  inquire  if  you 
wish  me  to  do  so. 

219 — By  way  of  illustration,  will  you  tell  us,  would  O'Donovan  Eossa  have  heard 
of  his  election  for  Tipperary?— I  happened  to  be  down  at  Chatham  just  after  he  waa 
elected,  and  he  asked  me  whether  he  was  returned  or  not. 

220.— Then  he  was  aware  that  he  was  a  candidate  ?— Yes,  he  was  aware  that  he 


3S6  Oi 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

was  a  candidate,  because  he  had  a  visit  from  one  of  his  friends.  I  told  him  I  wa9 
not  authorized  to  give  him  any  information  of  a  political  nature  at  all.  Then  he  asked 
me  whether,  if  he  was  elected,  he  might  be  allowed  to  come  to  Millbank,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  convenient  for  taking  his  seat.  I  told  him  I  presumed  every  consid- 
eration would  be  shown  to  him. 

221. — As  we  have  mentioned  him,  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  any  impropriety  in 
my  asking  whether  there  has  been  any  change  in  his  prison  character  of  late?— It 
has  very  much  improved.  He  now  conducts  himself  uncommonly  well ;  as  well  as 
anybody.  Up  to  the  middle  of  the  year  1868  he  was  a  very  difficult  man  to  manage, 
and  was  always  doing  something  against  the  rules;  but  I  was  fortunate  myself  in 
being  able,  in  some  way  or  other,  to  produce  a  little  change  in  him. 

222. — Can  you  attribute  the  change  in  O'Donovan  Rossa's  conduct  to  any  greater 
indulgence  in  his  treatment? — No;  I  think  that  he  commenced  his  good  conduct  first, 
and  then  it  was  encouraged  by  any  little  things  that  one  could  do  to  preserve  that 
state  of  things. 

223. — Mr.  De  Vebe — By  little  indulgences  ? — Little  considerations.  He  was  allowed  to 
see  his  child,  <>rfiis  wife,  when  he  would  not  ordinarily  haze  been  permitted  to  do  so 

249. — Will  you  furnish  us  with  the  cost  per  annum  to  the  State  of  each  political 
prisoner? — I  cannot  distinguish  political  prisoners  from  others. 

10321. — Could  a  man  be  kept  for  a  month  in  handcuffs? — No;  the  Governor  sees 
him  day  by  day,  or  the  Deputy-Governor. 

10922. — Could  he,  on  that  original  order,  be  handcuffed  for  a  month  if  he  was  in 
the  separate  ceils  ? — No,  he  cannot  be  in  the  separate  ceiis  for  a  month  under  the 
Governor's  order. 

10923. — If  there  was  a  fresh  order  from  the  Governor  for  the  continuance  of  the 
handcuffs  should  that  order  be  entered  as  a  fresh  order? — Certainly  it  should. 

10925. — Would  you  run  your  eye  over  the  entries  in  that  book  before  you,  and  see 
is  there  any  entry  that  the  re-imposition  of  the  manacles  was  done  "  by  order  of  the 
Governor?" — I  do  not  see  any. 

1093,3. — Captain  Da  Cane,  you  tried  O'Donovan  Rossa  on  the  1st  of  July,  1868?-  - 
Yes. 

10936. — Did  you  see  him  in  person  on  that  day? — Oh,  certainly. 

10937. — Was  he  in  handcuffs  when  you  saw  him  that  day? — I  cannot  recollect  at 
this  distance  of  time. 

10941. — Have  you  no  recollection  one  way  or  the  other  about  it? — No,  I  have  not 
the  slightest  recollection  whatever.    I  cannot  say  anything  about  it. 

13272. — Has  it  been  reported,  or  made  known  to  you  in  any  way,  that  their  health 
had  suffered  in  consequence  of  punishment? — Well,  it  is  very  difficult  to  say,  unless  1 
were  to  look  through  the  reports  of  men  who  have  undergone  punishment.  I  do  not 
at  this  moment  recollect  ai^thing  of  the  kind,  but  it  must  do  so;  if  a  man  is  per- 
petually put  on  low  diet,  and  so  on,  he  must,  somehow  or  other,  be  affected. 

13277. — They  were  located  in  those  places  because  it  was  thought  rather  neces- 
sary to  keep  them  secure.  One  treason-felony  convict  escaped  in  Ireland;  I  believe 
that  was  the  reason,  partly,  that  they  were  sent  over  to  England.  Therefore,  we  felt 
it  incumbent  on  us  to  take  particular  care  that  these  men  should  not  escape,  and  they 
have  not. 

13279. — With  whom  would  it  rest  to  mike  the  necessary  regulations  and  arrange- 
ments tor  the  transmission  of  prisoners  from  Mountjoy  Prison  to  the  English  prisons? 
— It  was  concerted  between  our  department  and  the  Irish  convict  department. 

132S0. — Which  department  would  officially  have  charge  of  them? — We  sent  over 
for  them. 

13281. — You  sent  for  them?— Yes;  we  received  them,  I  believe,  at  Kingstown;  I 
am  not  quite  sure.  There  have  been  two  or  three  batches.  Some  I  know  were  sent 
over  in  a  gunboat  to  Portland.  Those  that  came  over  to  Pentonville  first,  I  believe  we 
sent  as  far  as  Kingstown  for  them;  but  it  might  have  been  to  Holyhead  only.  There 
have  been  several  batches  brought  over.    The  passage  was  all  done  in  one  day. 

13330.— When  a  prisoner  is  put  in  handcuffs  seventy-two  hours,  does  it  mean 
seventy-two  consecutive  hours? — I  believe  the  Governor  would  be  justified  in  keeping 
a  man  in,  without  breach  of  orders,  for  seventy-two  consecutive  hours. 

13331. — If  the  continuity  of  the  seventy-two  hours  is  broken  by  removing  the  hand- 
cuffs at  night,  would  it  be  right  to  keep  a  prisoner  in  handcuffs  longer  than  three  days 
without  a  fresh  order? — I  do  not  think  it  would;  but  I  think  that  if  the  question  was 
referred  to  me  to  investigate  a  case  of  that  kind,  and  if  I  found  that  the  Governor  had 
kept  them  on  more  than  three  days  I  should  say  he  had  not  gone  beyond  the  letter  of 
his  instructions:  but  I  should  say  he  had  much  better  have  reported  at  the  end  of 
three  days  as  if  the  ironing  had  been  consecutive,  but  there  is  a  rule  preventing  him. 

13333. — Then  at  the  end  of  three  days,  whether  the  man  was  in  handcuffs  night 
and  day,  or  only  during  the  day-time,  the  G  >vernor  ought  no  longer  keep  a  prisoner 


O' 'Donovan  fossa's  Prison  Life.  387 

in  handcuffs  without  communicating  with  the  Board  of  Directors?— He  would  not 
break  any  rule  so  long  as  the  man  had  not  been  seventy-two  hours  consecutively  in 
irons. 

13334.— Mr.  Broderick— But  after  that  he  would?— He  would. 

13335.— Dr.  Greenhow— Then  a  Governor  may  keep  a  prisoner  in  handcuffs  every 
day  for  three  months,  provided  they  are  taken  off  at  night?— He  might  without  break- 
ing any  written  rule. 

13336.— But  would  not  that  be  breaking  the  spirit  of  the  rules?— It  would;  I  could 
not  say  he  had  broken  a  written  rule,  for  the  rule  is  usually  regarded  that  it  might  be 
read  the  other  way. 

13348.— Then  without  breaking  the  letter  of  any  existing  rules,  do  you  see  any 
limit  to  the  length  of  restraint  in  irons  that  the  Governor  may  impose?— Well,  I  should 
say  if  a  Governor  did  that  kind  of  thing,  it  would  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Direc- 
tor, and  that  would  be  a  practical  limit.  That  is  what  the  Director  is  for — to  see  that 
those  things  are  not  exceeded. 

13349.— I  will  only  ask  you  do  you  think  the  possibility  of  its  coming  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  Director  would  be  a  sufficient  safeguard?— I  should  say  that  if  a  man  was 
restrained  unduly  in  that  kind  of  way,  he  would  himself  bring  it  to  the  notice  of  the 
Director. 

13350. — If  it  wero  to  appear  that  such  a  case  as  this  might  arise,  of  a  man  being 
kept  in  irons  for  a  continuous  period  of  thirty-four  or  thirty-five  days,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  tbe  irons  being  taken  off  at  night,  and  that  it  had  not  been  noticed  by  the  Direc- 
tor, would  not  that  show  that  the  safeguard  that  you  allude  to  was  not  a  sufficient  one  ? 
—Well,  it  might,  but  the  particular  case  that  you  allude  was  not  under  that  circum- 
stance ;  it  was  known  to  the  Director. 

13351. — Was  it  made  the  subject  of  any  aninadversion  by  the  Director  of  the 
prison  to  the  Governor?— No,  certainly  not.  I  quite  approve  of  that  man  having  been 
kept  so ;  I  take  it  entirely  on  my  responsibility  as  Chairman ;  I  take  the  responsibility 
on  myself  of  approving  of  what  Captain  Powell  did  when  he  kept  the  man  in  restraint 
day  by  day. 

13352.— Dr.  Lyons— Did  you,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  know  in  reference  to  this  last 
question  when  you  tried  O'Donovan  Rossa  on  the  1st  of  July,  that  he  had  been  in 
handcuffs?— I  was  aware.  I  forget  at  this  moment,  but  I  think  it  is  most  likely  that 
I  knew  he  had  been  restrained  in  handcuffs  very  frequently,  perhaps  every  day,  since 
the  time  he  had  committed  the  assault. 

13414. — Supposing  a  man  was  condemned  to  punishment  in  a  refractory  cell  for  a 
certain  number  of  hours,  and  that  a  Sunday  intervened,  would  it  not  be  possible  to 
allow  him  to  attend  religious  service,  and  then  put  in  a  number  of  hours  at  the  end  of 
the  sentence  that  would  compensate  for  the  time  he  had  been  absent  from  the  cell? 
You  might  do  that;  but  I  think  it  would  to  a  certain  extent  break  the  effect  of  the 
punishment.  It  is  the  continuousness  of  the  punishment  that  tells  on  a  man.  If  it  is 
broken,  he  is  to  a  certain  extent  deprived  of  its  effect. 

13420. — Are  you  aware  of  the  size  and  position  of  the  dark  cells  at  Milbank?— Yes; 
X  have  seen  them  not  very  long  ago. 

13421. —Are  you  aware  that  they  are  under  the  level  of  the  ground ?— Yes ;  they 
we  not  all  good  places. 

13422.— Are  you  aware  that  the  beds  are  placed  along  the  shorter  walls,  which 
fje  only  five  feet  four  inches  in  length? — No ;  I  am  not  aware  of  that. 

13425. — Do  you  consider  confining  a  prisoner  in  a  dark  cell  as  distinct  from  a  light 
eell,  a  necessary  instrument  of  prison  discipline  ? — Yes ;  I  think  it  is.  It  is  not  one  I 
like  or  should  use  often,  nor  is  it,  I  believe,  used  often ;  but  it  has  an  effect. 

13437. — Supposing,  Captain  Du  Cane,  that  the  letter  contained  a  statement  as  to 
his  treatment  in  prison,  and  that  such  statement  was  not  proved  to  the  Governor  to 
be  untrue,  but,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to  have  been  well  founded,  would  it  be  al- 
lowed to  go  out? — A  letter  to  his  friends? 

13433.— Yes ;  a  letter  to  his  friends  must  refer  to  nothing  about  his  treatment  in- 
side prison. 

13442.— Mr.  Broderick — I  have  here  before  me  a  statement  in  the  case  of  one  of 
the  prisoners  at  Woking.  The  following  note  was  made,  I  presume,  in  the  books,  from 
which  he  has  been  furnished  with  extracts  according  to  his  application.  The  note 
referring  to  his  first  application,  respecting  an  answer  to  his  letters  is,  "  Was  sup- 
pressed by  the  Director ;  the  prisoner  not  to  be  informed?"— I  do  not  know  the  spe- 
cific case. 

13445. — This  relates  to  a  letter  which  had  been  received  for  the  prisoner?— Oh,  I 
%**nnot  undertake  to  say  that  when  letters  are  received  they  are  always  told.  No ;  I 
would  not  undertake  to  say  that ;  because  they  are  only  allowed  to  receive  a  certain 
number  of  letters.  I  suppose  if  more  than  the  proper  number  were  written  they 
W  uld  simply  not  be  given  to  him.    I  will  not  say  that  they  are  always  told  it. 


388  0' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

13446. — If  news  were  contained  in  such  a  letter  which  it  was  important  for  the 
prisoner  to  know,  such  as  the  death  of  his  wife,  he  would  be  told? — He  would  be  told. 

13452. — Dr.  Greenhow — If  an  ordinary  prisoner  had  committed  the  assault  Eossa 
did,  what  would  have  been  done? — He  would  have  been  flogged.  If  any  other  pris- 
oners had  done  what  Rossa  did,  he  might  have  been  flogged  a  dozen  times. 

13471. — Dr.  Lyons. — Have  you  satisfied  yourself  as  to  the  effects  of  certain  pun- 
ishments, such  as  dark  cells  and  the  use  of  bread  and  water,  or  do  you  merely  acton 
what  you  have  found  in  practice?  Have  you  given  any  special  attention  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  question  of  those  two  punishments? — I  have  by  inquiry  from  those 
who  have  seen  people  under  the  effect  of  ihem. 

13474. — fs  it  your  opinion  that,  on  the  whole,  they  are  successful  in  the  ob- 
jects intended? — Certainly  they  are,  in  m>'St  cases.  Some  prisoners  are  affected  by 
different  punishments,  some  by  others. 

13474. — Are  you  aware  that  both  these  measures  of  discipline  and  punishment 
are  a  good  deal  abandoned  elsewhere  ? — I  did  not  know  that  they  were  abandoned.  I 
know  that  there  are  many  persons  that  object  to  them. 

13476  — Do  you  think,  on  profound  consideration,  and  on  theoretical  grounds,  that 
they  are  really  useful  as  means  of  correcting  a  refractory  spirit? — I  think  they  are. 
L  think  they  take  the  refractory  spirit  out  of  a  man. 

13477. — Have  you  not  found  ver}-  notable  instances  in  which  they  failed,  and  in 
which  another  mode  of  action  very  wisely  and  very  successfully  put  in  operation — by 
vourself.  for  instance — in  one  case,  had  more  effect  than  continuous  dark  cells,  bread 
and  water,  and  irons? — Certainly,  they  do  fail;  all  modes  of  punishment  fail,  even 
hanging  s  metimes. 

13481. — In  some  notable  instances  where  they  were  long  continued,  have  they  not 
failed? — Yes.  I  may  say  that  in  educated  prisoners,  who  do  not  care  so  much  about 
food  as  others,  the  question  of  depriving  of  food  is  not  always  very  efficacious. 

13482. — Have  you  looked  at  the  deprivation  of  food  yourself,  as  to  its  efficacy  ;  as 
to  the  results  in  producing  what  is  expected  of  it — a  power  of  coercion  on  the  human 
will? — T  know  that  a  man  who  is  put  under  that  kind  of  punishment  very  often  mends 
his  w  ys. 

I3id3. — Would  you  be  surprised  to  hear  that  in  abstinence  from  food,  the  sensation 
of  hunger  very  often  ceases  at  an  early  period  ? — Yes  ;  I  am  told  that  it  does. 

13484. — And  that  it  is  succeeded  by  languor  and  weakness? — I  dare  say  that  it 
might  do  so.    Yes,  I  should  think  most  probably  it  would. 

13487. — Do  you  think  that  with  regard  to  the  permission  of  letters  inwards  and 
outwards,  without  any  serious  ill  result  to  the  prison  system  of  discipline,  a  relaxation 
of  the  rules  now  in  force  could  be  made  ? — I  think  the  privilege  of  letters  is  one  of 
those  very  few  things  which  we  are  able  to  use  as  inducements  to  good  behavior, 
and  I  think  any  relaxation  of  it  will  deprive  us  of  that  advantage. 

13489. — We  have  in  evidence  that  a  prisoner  was  for  a  very  lengthened  period 
without  knowing  how  his  wife  was? — Well,  I  suppose  there  was  nothing  the  matter 
with  the  wife  of  that  prisoner.  If  the  prisoner  was  ill-conducted  he  was  not  entitled 
to  a  letter. 

13519. — If  a  prisoner  expeditiously  completes  the  task-work  prescribed  to  him, 
and  then  reads  a  book,  is  there  any  moral  or  prison  guilt  involved  in  it? — I  should 
say  that  whilst  working-hours  existed  he  was  bound  to  work.  If  the  Governor  had 
set  him  a  task  which  did  not  take  him  enough,  he  ought  to  have  asked  for  more. 

13522. — In  this  particular  case  it  was  three  pounds  of  oakum  he  was  to  pick? — 
During  working  hours  I  should  expect  a  man  to  work,  not  to  read.  If  he  was 
tempted  to  read  I  should  take  the  books  out  of  his  cell.  I  would  not  have  him  read 
when  he  ought  to  be  working.    He  is  not  sent  to  prison  to  read. 

13523. — But  if  he  completes  his  work  within  the  given  time  is  there  anything 
contrary  to  discipline  in  his  reading  for  the  remainder  of  the  time  ? — I  say  that  dur- 
during  working  hours  he  ought  to  work.  If  he  is  so  vigorous  that  he  can  do  more 
work  than  ordinary  people  he  must  still  work,  according  to  my  idea  of  propriety, 
during  working  hours. 

13535.— Would  it  not  be  a  great  assistance  to  the  Directors  of  prisons  in  carrying 
out  the  sentence  on  a  prisoner,  if,  as  you  suggested,  the  Judge  were  to  take  into 
account  the  amount  of  moral  degradation  that  was  involved  in  the  case,  and  that  the 
Directors  of  prisons  should  therefore  be  able  to  modify  the  discipline  of  the  prison  as 
affecting  the  peculiar  character  of  the  man? — I  think  there  might  be  disadvantages 
in  that;  but  in  the  same  prison  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  different  systems.  I 
should  send  him  to  a  different  prison. 

That  is  as  much  as  I  need  give  of  Captain  Du  Cane's  evidence. 
The  reader  can  readily  understand  that  he  is  a  man  suited  for  bi$ 


O' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  389 

work.  At  Question  13351  he  admits  he  knew  I  was  thirty-five 
days  in  irons,  and,  as  Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Directors,  he 
sends  one  of  them  down  to  Chatham  Prison  to  get  up  a  report 
that  I  was  only  one  day  in  them.  He  admits  that  though  there 
is  a  standing  order  not  to  keep  a  prisoner  handcuffed  more  than 
three  days,  there  is  a  way  of  evading  that  and  keeping  a  prisoner 
handcuffed  all  the  days  of  his  life,  if  it  be  pleasing  to  the  au- 
thorities. Mr.  Du  Cane  played  an  important  part  this  year  at  the 
International  Prison  Congress.  How  I  wish  I  had  him  under  ex 
animation  there,  in  the  presence  of  the  representatives  from  the 
other  nations,  to  whom  he  showed  the  excellence  of  his  English 
system,  with  all  the  buchu  plastering  he  could  lay  on. 

Count  Sollahule  of  Russia  proposed  the  following  question 
for  this  Congress,  and  I  am  sure  my  Director  would  not — at 
least  for  the  Irish  political  prisoners — consider  imprisonment  alone 
sufficient  punishment : 

"No.  8. — Ought  not  the  Congress  to  recognize  from  the  start,  as  a  binding  prin- 
ciple, the  fundamental  proposition  of  'Rossi's  Treatise  on  the  Penal  Code:  "Im- 
prisonment is  punishment,  par  excellence,  am.ong  all  civilized  people." 

Mr.  Du  Cane  would  have  a  punishment  that  drove  sixty-two 
men  into  the  madness  of  self-mutilation  in  Chatham,  during  the 
year  1872,  and  that  created  19,633  casualties  for  the  doctor,  that  is 
an  average  of  53  each  day. — (See  English  Government  Report  of 
Convict  Prisons,  1872.) 

MR.    WILLIAM   FAGAN   EXAMINED. 

3040 — Chairman — Mr.  Fagan,  you  are  one  of  the  Directors  of  convict  prisons? — 
Yes,  mv  lord. 

3045. — You  would  have  power  to  inflict  punishment  which  the  Governor  cannot? — 
I  can  inflict  the  punishment  which  a  Board  of  Visiting  Justices  can.  I  can  award 
corporal  punishment  to  a  prisoner  ;  I  can  sentence  him  to  close  confinement  on  pun- 
ishment diet  for  28  days,  varying  only  each  fourth  day  by  penal  class  diet.  If  he  is  a 
man  who  has  committed  an  assault  on  a  warder,  I  can  place  him  in  cross-irons,  not 
exceeding  six  pounds  in  weight,  and  restrict  him  to  a  dress  such  that  every  officer 
will  know  he  is  a  person  who  has  committed  an  assault  on  one  of  themselves. 

3096. — As  a  matter  of  fact,  have  you  detained  many  letters  which  came  for,  or 
were  sent  by,  treason-felony  prisoners? — Formerly  we  have  detained  a  great  many. 

3097. — Have  you  detained  many  letters  sent  for  the  prisoners?— Yes. 

3098 Have  you  detained  many  letters  sent  by  them  ? — Yes ;  we  suppressed  them 

because  they  contained  statements  in  abuse  of  myself,  or  of  the  Governor,  or  of  the 
Government. 

3116. — Dr.  Greenhow — You  ordered  the  treason-felony  convicts  to  be  kept  sepa- 
rate from  the  other  prisoners? — Yes. 

3117. — Did  you  consider  that  an  indulgence  ? — No ;  I  thought  it  more  a  matter  of 
security. 

3118 — Not  as  an  indulgence? — Oh,  certainly  not,  but  as  a  point  ot  security.  I 
considered  the  prison  a  weak  one,  and  I  was  responsible  for  the  safe  custody  of  those 
men. 

3122. — Did  you  gather  that  the  impression  on  the  minds  of  the  treason-felony 
prisoners  was,  that  their  crime  was  of  a  different  character,  and  that  they  ought  not 
to  be  associated  with  ordinary  prisoners? — Yes;  they  have  always  called  themselves 
"State  prisoners." 

3124. — Now,  is  it  a  fact  that  they  have  had  fewer  visits  than  other  prisoners?— 
Yes,  I  think,  m  point  of  fact,  that  they  have  had  fewer  visits. 

3136,—  fc  esse  of  the  death  of  a  prisoner's  mother,  wife,  sister,  or  brother,  or  any 
other  relative,  and  that  a  letter  was  received  announcing  it,  would  the  prisoner  be  al- 


390  O  ''Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life. 

lowed  to  receive  that  letter,  although  it  was  out  of  time?— He  would  not  be  allowed 
to  see  it  until  the  time  arrived  that  it  was  due,  but  the  information  in  it  about  the 
death  would  be  communicated  to  him  at  once. 

3250. — Me.  De  Vebe — In  the  case  of  confinement  in  the  dark  cell,  is  there  any  sys- 
tem of  periodical  disturbance  of  the  men  at  night? — Oh,  yes;  the  same  system  exists 
here  as  in  all  prisons. 

3251. — How  often  at  night? — He  would  not  be  more  than  half  an  hour  at  night 
without  being  visited,  but  not  necessarily  disturbed. 

3252. — And  when  disturbed,  would  he  be  awakened? — No,  unless  they  cover 
themselves  in  and  put  their  heads  under  the  blanket.  The  officer  when  he  visits  must 
know  whether  the  man  is  sick  or  dead,  or  there  at  all.  If  a  man  laid  himself  down 
With  his  blanket  off  his  cheeks  he  would  not  be  disturbed  at  all. 

3253. — Dr.  Lyons — When  a  prisoner  is  hi  a  punishment  cell,  and  Sunday  falls 
within  the  period  of  his  punishment,  is  he  allowed  to  go  to  religious  worship? — No. 

3257. — I  wish  to  know  is  there  any  impossibility  in  the  matter.  Take  the  case  of 
a  Catholic,  with  whom  it  is  the  highest  obligation  to  attend  Mass  on  Sunday — would 
there  be  any  impossibility  of  sending  him  to  Mass  on  Sunday? — Except  that  it  would 
be  a  violation  of  the  punishment,  and  it  would  be  treating  him  exceptionally  with  re- 
gard to  his  fellow  prisoners." 

This  is  Mr.  Fagan,  the  Irishman  and  the  Roman  Catholic,  who 
ordered  that  no  Irishman  or  Roman  Catholic  be  allowed  to  have 
any  charge  of  us. 

MR.  GEORGE  CLIFTON,  GOVERNOR  OP  PORTLAND  PRISON,  EXAMINED., 

2084. — Chairman — Mr.  Clifton,  you  are  the  Governor  of  this  prison,  are  you  not? — 
I  am,  my  lord. 

2128. — During  the  time  you  have  been  here  you  have  had  under  your  charge  cer- 
tain prisoners  convicted  under  the  Treason  Felony  Act? — I  have,  my  lord. 

2135. — How  long  did  they  remain  in  the  wash-house  ? — Only  a  day  or  two.  I  think 
it  was  five  days;  but  that  I  could  refer  to  and  ascertain  immediately,  my  lord. 

2136. — Then  it  was  in  consequence  of  instructions  given  to  you  that  they  were 
placed  in  the  ordinary  public  works? — I  then  received  instructions  to  treat  them  as 
ordinary  prisoners ;  that  is  to  say,  that  they  were  to  be  sent  on  to  other  public  works? 
but  they  were  to  be  located  by  themselves,  and  they  were  to  be  worked  in  a  party 
separate,  by  themselves,  and  they  were  so. 

2138. — And  has  that  continued  to  be  the  case  to  the  present  time? — It  has  con- 
tinued with  the  exception  of  a  day  or  two,  my  lord,  when  there  was  a  great  spirit  of 
insubordination  shown  by  them,  and  at  the  same  time  I  was  hourly  expecting  a 
mutiny  amongst  the  prisoners  here.  At  the  very  time  that  this  exhibition  of  a  turbu- 
lent spirit  was  taking  place,  information  indirectly  came  to  me  that  the  treason- 
felony  prisoners  were  going  to  assist  in  the  mutiny;  and  I  believe  that  it  was  on  that 
occasion  that  for  a  day  or  two,  on  my  request  to  the  Visiting  Director,  two  of  the 
treason-felony  prisoners  were  removed  out  of  the  party,  as  they,  I  thought,  were 
leading  the  other  men  astray. 

2139. — Who  were  they? — O'Donovan  Eossa  was  one  of  them,  and,  I  think,  O'Con' 
nor  the  other. 

2142. — They  were  separated  from  persons  suffering  under  the  same  sentence  as 
themselves? — Exactly,  my  lord;  but  I  found,  from  the  information  I  got  in  the  party, 
they  were  doing  more  harm  there  than  they  were  amongst  themselves.  I  therefore 
put  them  back  into  their  own  party  again. 

2143. — I  believe  you  then,  or  subsequently,  moved  them  from  the  ordinary  cells 
to  tl  e  penal  class  cells? — I  did,  my  lord. 

2144. — Why  was  that  done  ? — I  looked  on  it  as  a  more  secure  position. 

2159. — Would  the  Visiting  Director  receive  the  evidence  of  another  prisoner  in 
charge,  when  it  is  borne  out  by  collateral  evidence? — I  do  not  think  he  would  ever 
directly  take  the  evidence  of  one  prisoner  to  support  another. 

2267. — Are  the  prisoners  expected  to  salute  the  officers  here? — No,  they  are  sup- 
posed to  salute  the  superior  officers.  For  instance,  when  goicg  around  the  cells  of  a 
day,  if  a  man  is  tying  down  he  stands  up  to  "  attention  "  and  salutes,  but  only  when 
he  is  visited  by  the  Medical  Officer,  the  Chaplain,  the  Priest,  and  the  Governor,  or 
Deputy  Governor. 

2318.— I  think  you  stated  that  the  rule  of  silence  on  the  public  works  was  formerly 
enforced  against  the  treason-felony  prisoners? — It  whs  endeavored  to  be  enforced.  It 
was  never  strictly  accomplished,  but  some  of  the  treason-felony  convicts  were  re- 
ported during  the  first  month  they  were  here  for  breaking  that  rule, 


O^  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  391 

2319.— Do  I  understand  you  to  say  now  that  they  were  virtually  permitted  to  talk 
freely? — Well,  I  must  say  they  are,  virtually  so.  They  are  virtually  permitted  to  do 
so  now,  from  the  mere  fact  of  the  impossibility  of  preventing  them ;  the  alternative 
is,  that  they  must  either  be  confined  under  punishment,  or  be  allowed  to  talk. 

2471. — Dr.  Lyons — The  baths,  I  observe,  are  so  arranged  that,  as  I  have  been  in- 
formed, three  persons  in  succession  use  the  same  bath  ? — Yes. 

2481. — What  amount  of  clothing  is  given  to  a  prisoner  in  Winter? — He  has  exactly 
the  same  as  in  Summer. 

11951.  Chairman  How  long,  Mr  Clifton,  was  the  treason-felony  prisoner  O'Dono- 
van  Rossa  under  your  charge  ?— -Speaking  from  my  memory,  my  lord,  I  think  nearly 
twelve  months. 

11952. — Do  you  recollect  during  that  twelve  months  the  case  of  a  letter  which  he 
was  charged  with  endeavoring  to  send  out  surreptitiously? — I  do,  my  lord. 

12025. — Did  O'Donovan  Rossa  afterwards  state  to  you  that  if  you  had  told  the 
Board  of  Directors  and  the  Secretary  of  State,  that  the  letter  was  intended  for  another 
man's  wife,  you  told  them  what  was  false  ? — I  recollect  of  his  telling  me  if  I  told  the 
Board  of  Directors;  I  dd  not  make  use  of  the  Secretary  of  State's  name. 

12026. — Was  he  ]  >unished  for  making  that  remark  ? — I  do  not  know.  It  was  highly 
insubordinate  conduct,  accusing  the  Governor  in  the  presence  of  a  subordinate 
officer,  of  having  made  it  public  in  the  prison  that  he  had  been  carrying  on  an  intrigue 
with  another's  man's  wife.  He  upbraided  me  very  severely,  and  I  had  intended  to 
have  him  reported  and  punished,  but  I  thought  I  might  give  him  one  more  chance.  I 
am  under  the  impression  that  I  mentioned  it  to  the  Director  afterwards,  but  I  am 
only  speaking  from  m-  mory. 

12028.— To  the  best  of  your  knowledge,  is  there  any  written  account  of  the  alleged 
fact  tnat  O'Donovan  Rossa  tried  to  pass  out  a  letter  to  another  man's  wife  appearing 
in  the  books  of  Portland  Prison,  or  in  any  other  book  within  your  cognizance ?— I 
think  there  is,  sir.  I  think  I  might  be  able  to  put  my  hand  on  either  the  semi-official 
letter  or  the  official  letter  that  I  sent  up  to  Parliament  street  with  the  documents. 

12033. — Dr.  Greenhow — There  are  two  lines  here  that  I  will  read  for  you: 
"  The  fatherland,  the  hope  of  years — 
The  friend,  the  child  and  wife." 
Here  is  another: 

"  It  freely  flies  to  wife  and  child, 
To  friend  and  fatherland." 

Now,  after  reading  these  lines,  could  you  doubt  that  that  letter  was  addressed  to  his 
wife? — (No  answer.) 

12038. — Mr.  De  Vere — Do  you  remember  this  matter  having  been  investigated  by 
a  former  Commission? — It  was. 

12041. — Do  you  remember  the  conclusion  that  the  Commission  came  to? — I  will 
read  it  to  you :  "We  are  far  from  saying  that  it  was  not  so  "  (that  is,  that  it  was  not 
satisfactory).  "Tie  letter  may  have  been  for  Mrs.  Moore  the  elder,  not  for  Mrs. 
Moore  the  younger.  '  Mrs.  O'D.'  might  mean  Mrs.  O'Donovan  Rossa,  not  Mrs.  O'Dono- 
van; but  at  least  the  matter  requires  explanation,  and  Rossa  might  have  asked  Moore's 
permission  before  writing  either  to  his  mother  or  his  wife."  That  is  their  conclusion. 
Do  you  understand  by  that  conclusion  that  the  Commission  leaves  the  matter  in  doubt 
as  to  whether  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  or  was  not  writing  a  letter  to  another  man's  wife?/ 
— (No  answer.) 

12042. — Chairman — You  must  be  cleverer  than  I  am,  Mr.  Clifton,  if  you  can  put 
any  other  interpretation  on  it. 

12068. — When  you  mentioned  to  Moore  that  O'Donovan  Rossa  had  written  to 
Moore's  wife,  did  he  evince  any  feeling  of  anger  or  resentment? — He  was  very  indig- 
nant. 

12074. — Did  you  think  there  was  no  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  two  men 
meeting  one  another  under  the  impression  that  one  of  them  had  written  to  the  wife 
o^  the  other? — No  ;  for  the  treason-felony  prisoners  send  their  love  one  to  another  and 
there  is  the  greatest  possible  sympathy  and  friendly  feeling  between  them,  and  they 
never  forgot  to  mention  each  other. 

12086. — Chairman — Rossa  in  his  statement  asks,  "  How  is  it  explained  that  in  Port- 
land I  have  been  separated  from  the  Irish  prisoners  and  sent  amongst  a  gang  of  Eng- 
lish prisoners?" — He  was  separated  from  the  treason-felony  prisoners  on  two  occa- 
sions, my  lord,  when  the  treason-felony  prisoners  were  showing  a  very  insubordinate 
spirit  and  carrying  it  to  such  an  extent  that  I  recommended  to  the  Director  that  the 
party  should  be  broken  up  and  distributed  amongst  the  other  prisoners,  or  at  all  events 
those  who  were  the  leaders.  Looking  on  O'Donovan  Rossa  at  that  time  as  being  their 
leader  I  removed  him,  and,  I  think,  it  was  O'Connor,  into  another  party  of  prisoners, 
Where  he  was  employed  and  was  very  much  under  my  own  observation  and  the  ob« 


392  0^  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

serration  of  the  officers.  He  created  such  a  feeling  of  sympathy  towards  himself  in 
the  party  that  I  saw  that  it  would  be  dangerous  for  him  to  remain  there.  I  thought 
it  would  be  better,  and  for  the  safety  of  the  prison  at  large,  if  he  returned  to  the 
party  and  Torked  with  them,  and  accordingly  he  was  sent  back.  I  was  then  in  pos- 
session of  written  information  that  a  mutiny  on  a  large  scale  was  to  take  place  at  the 
prison;  on  marching  back  to  the  prison  from  tho  works  the  convicts  were  to  rise  en 
masse.  They  were  to  be  officered  or  commanded  by  the  Fenian  prisoners  and  were 
to  rush  on  the  prison.    It  was  just  about  this  time. 

12087.— He  asks,  "  How  is  it  explained  that  while  at  Portland,  the  rest  of  the  trea- 
son-felony prisoners  working  in  mid- winter  in  a  shed  I  was  piaced  outside  of  the  shed 
and  prevented  from  having  that  little  shelter  from  the  poison-laden  blast  which  the 
others  had?"  Do  you  know  anything  about  that? — He  complained  to  me  about  that 
and  I  interrogated  the  officer  at  the  time,  but  it  was  simply  that  he  was  misconducting 
himself  and  had  been  put  outside  the  shed  for  a  short  time. 

12089. — "  How  is  it  explained,"  he  asks,  "  that  Avhen  under  report  the  same  day 
with  some  of  my  fellow  prisoners,  on  a  charge  of  talking  while  at  work  they  got 
twenty-four  hours  on  bread  and  water  and  I  got  seventy-two  hours  on  bread  and 
water  with  fourteen  days  solitary  confinement  on  penal  class  diet?"  The  date  is  29th 
December,  1806? — The  others  were  charged  with  simply  talking  on  the  works,  while 
he  was  reported  for  talking  accompanied  with  insolence  ;  in  fact,  setting  the  officer 
at  defiance  at  the  time,  and  therefore  he  was  awarded  a  heavier  punishment  than  the 
other  prisoners. 

12092. — Was  O'Donovan  Eossa  ever  deprived  of  all  books  as  a  punishment  at  Port- 
land?— I  think  he  was  on  one  occasion  by  order  of  the  Director. 

12094. — Are  you  able  to  state  positively  whether  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  for  six 
months  deprived  of  the  use  of  the  Bible? — I  could  not  without  reference  to  the  Direc- 
tor's order  in  the  case. 

12095. — When  a  prisoner  is  confined  in  a  dark  cell  at  Portland  would  he  have  his 
body  clothing  at  night,  or  would  his  body  clothing  be  taken  from  him  at  night? — It 
is  the  ordinary  custom  that  when  a  man  is  in  a  dark  cell  his  clothes  are  taken  from 
him. 

MB.  MORISH,  GOVERNOR  OF  MILLBANK,  EXAMINED. 

12858. — Mr.  Devere — Do  I  understand  that  if  a  man  by  diligence  and  exertion  had 
finished  his  work  a  little  before  the  close  of  the  working  hours,  he  would  not  then  be 
allowed  to  read? — No,  not  in  working  hours. 

12893. — Mr.  Lyons — Would  you  show  us  the  kind  of  bowl  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  fur- 
nished with  to  take  his  food  out  of? — Yes. 

12894. — Had  he  any  spoon  on  each  of  these  occasions? — He  would  be  supplied 
with  a  spoon,  certainly,  if  he  had  not  broken  it. 

12972. — Was  O'Donovan  Rossa  searched  very  frequently? — He  was  searched  very 
frequently  because  he  was  found  t<>  have  forbidden  things  about  him. 

12973. — Do  you  happen  to  remember  if  he  was  searched  daily  for  a  considerable 
period? — Well,  I  could  not  state  exactly  whether  he  was,  but  I  think  it  is  very  possi- 
ble that  he  was. 

12997. — Might  they  be  naked  searches? — Yes,  if  the  man  is  a  dangerous  character. 

13011. — How  many  baths  have  common  water  in  them? — There  are  four  separate 
ones  in  the  reception  ward. 

13013. — How  many  of  these  baths  have  the  same  water? — I  am  going  to  speak  now 
with  regard  to  the  time  of  the  reception  of  O'Donovan  Rossa.  At  that  time  two 
prisoners  on  an  average  used  one  and  the  same  water. 

13025.— I  find  recorded  here  on  the  20th  of  December,  1867,  this  order:  "He  is 
to  have  io  other  spoon  issued?" — Yes;  but  I  think  that  does  not  refer  to  the  cell  he 
was  in  "  for  destroying  his  spoon,  and  scraping  away  the  cement  on  the  bottom  of  the 
cell  window."     On  that  occasion  he  had  no  other  spoon  issued. 

13029. — How  would  he  lift  it,  the  hands  being  crossed? — Very  well;  I  could  do  it 
without  difficulty. 

13030. — Your  hands  are  not  manacled  now? — At  all  events,  I  am  satisfied  that 
perso'is  have  taken  their  meals  with  manacles  on  their  hands. 

13038. — I  think  your  proposal  to  get  the  manacles  on  is  a  better  way  of  testing  it? 
Yes,  but  I  do  not  know  if  we  can  get  any  gruel  at  present.  ( Wit?iess  directs  a  warder 
to  have  snme  gruel  brought  in  the  bowl.) 

13051. — Mr.  Morhh— I  consider  that  it  can  be  brought  up  to  his  mouth  this  way 
(witness  lifts  the  bowl  to  his  mouth.)  I  think  1  could  empty  that  bowl  without  much 
trouble 


(J  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  393 

JOHN  D.   BURNS,  M.   D.,   EXAMINED. 

5664. — Have  you  noticed  a  bad  smell  as  the  result  of  bad  drainage? — I  have,  sir. 
It  is  caused  by  not  having  sufficient  fall. 

5665. — The  tide  makes  its  appearance? — The  tide  makes  its  appearance. 
5666.— Does  the  tide  come  into  the  prison?— The  tide  comes  into  the  kitchen. 
5667. — The  tide  has  been  known  to  come  into  the  kitchen? — Outside  the  kitchen. 
5668. — Have  you  made  any  report  of  the  state  of  the  sewers? — I  have,  and  fre- 
quently. 

5671. — Have  you  made  medical  reports  to  the  Director,  or  the  Home  Office,  or  the 
Office  of  Works? — I  have  frequently. 

5639. — Dr.  Lyons — Do  you  think  that  the  boards  upon  which  the  treason-felony 
prisoners  sleep  furnish  as  comfortable  a  bed  as  the  hammock  of  the  other  prisoners  ? — 
That  is  a  matter  of  opinion,  entirely.  Some  men  would  prefer  to  sleep  in  a  ham- 
mock, and  think  it  more  comfortable.  I  think  the  others  more  comfortable,  because 
in  the  hammocks  you  might  fall  out,  and  many  do  fall  out,  and  the  strapping  gives 
way.    I  think  it  is  more  comfortable  on  the  floor,  where  they  are. 

5747. — Chairman — Is  it  your  opinion,  Dr.  Burns,  that  there  is  sufficient  ventilation 
in  the  dark  cells? — There  is  not,  my  lord;  not  quite  so  much  as  there  ought  to  be. 

6890. — Mr.  Broderick — Did  you  on  any  occasion,  Dr.  Burns,  say  to  Underwood 
O'Connel!  that  medicine  was  not  what  he  wanted,  but  food,  better  food,  and  that  that 
you  were  not  allowed  to  give  him  ?  Did  you  ever  say  that  to  him,  or  anything  to  that 
effect? — No ;  but  he  has  suggested  that  idea  to  me.  He  has,  for  instance,  put  it  to  me 
whether  better  food  and  other  food  would  be  better  for  him.  Certainly,  I  think  it 
would. 

6891. — And  have  you  ever  gone  on  to  say  that  he  required  better  food  than  you 
were  allowed  to  give  him? — Well,  I  think  it  very  likely  that  I  have  done  so." 

6919. — It  was  stated  to  us  that  on  his  complaining  to  you,  you  said,  "  when  the 
boot  has  worked  a  sore  I  will  endeavor  to  mend  it,"  that  he  then  asked,  "  Is  not  pre- 
vention better  than  cure?"  and  that  you  answered,  "  I  am  not  allowed  to  prevent  any- 
thing of  that  sort  in  certain  cases  ?" — Well,  my  lord,  it  is  very  likely — the  statement  of 
the  prisoner  about  prevention. 

6932. — Are  hot  the  treason-felony  convicts  in  penal  cells? — They  are  in  the  penal 
cells,  but  not  in  the  dark  cells.  Rossa,  I  believe,  is  the  only  man  who  ever  occupied 
one  of  them. 

9044. — You  stated,  I  think,  in  answer  to  Lord  Devon,  that  it  is  most  unusual  for  a 
man  to  have  handcuffs  on  him  in  the  dark  cell? — It  is. 

9045. — And  I  think  you  also  said  that  Rossa  was  handcuffed  in  the  dark 
cell? — I  think  he  was.  To  the  best  of  my  recollection  he  was  handcuffed  in  the 
dark  cell. 

9058. — Did  you  at  any  time  find  that  his  health  was  suffering  at  any  period  be- 
tween June  and  the  end  of  August,  1868,  in  consequence  of  the  discipline  he  was  un- 
dergoing?— His  weight  and  appearance  were  reduced,  in  consequence  of  the  low 
diet  that  he  was  placed  on ;  but  beyond  that  I  do  not  think  his  health  suffered. 
He  appeared  reduced  in  face,  and  reduced  in  appearance,  from  the  bread  and  water 
that  he  was  placed  on. 

9059. — Do  you  think  it  possible  that  a  man  could  be  on  bread-and-water-diet 
for  twelve  days  out  of  fifteen,  and  in  dark  cells  at  the  same  period  for  eight  days  out  of 
fifteen,  without  suffering  in  health? — I  think  that  he  would  be  reduced  in  bulk,  but  I 
do  not  know  that  his  health  would  suffer.  It  would  not  be  improved,  certainly.  His 
reduced  diet  might  certainly  injure  his  health  to  a  limited  extent,  possibly,  although 
not  appreciably.    I  cannot  say  it  would  improve  his  health. 

9072. — Chairman — On  visiting  O 'Donovan  Rossa  during  that  time,  did  you  consider 
it  injurious  to  his  health  ? — I  did  not,  my  lord. 

9019.— For  a  great  many  days  between  the  first  of  June  and  the  end  of  August, 
he  did  undergo  bread  and  water'? — He  did,  a  great  many  times. 

9120. — Did  you  observe  any  deterioration  of  his  health  during  that  period? — 
1  did  not. 

9121. — It  seemed  to  agree  with  him? — No,  I  cannot  say  that  it  agreed  with  him. 
The  man  used  to  emaciate  on  it. 

9134. — He  made  no  complaint? — He  made  no  complaint  at  the  time. 
9162. — Do  you  consider  him  constitutionally  a  strong  man? — I  think  him  a  very 
strong  man  indeed,  very. 

10382. — Chairman — What  questions  do  you  wish  to  put  to  Dr.  Burns  ?  Prisoner — 
I  do  not  desire,  my  lord,  to  go  into  the  question  about  the  irons,  if  you  have  examined 
about  it. 

10383.— I  do  not  think  it  necessary  that  you  should.— Very  well,  my  lord.  Well, 
my  lord,  a  question  :  Would  you  ask  Dr.  Burns  if  he  ever  saw  me  violently  or  inso- 
lently disposed  towards  him  or  any  other  person? 


394  (/Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life, 

10384. — Have  you  ever,  Dr.  Burns,  had  occasion  to  complain  of  the  conduct  of 
O'Donovan  Rossa  towards  you,  as  being  insolent,  or  in  any  way  unbecoming ?  Dr. 
Burns — No,  my  lord,  never. 

10441. — You  stale  that  you  observed,  on  the  third  day,  that  he  was  manacled  with 
his  hands  behind  his  back?  Dr.  Burns — I  think  he  was;  to  the  best  of  my  know- 
ledge, I  think. 

10445. — Then,  it  is  possible  that  you  may  not  recollect  what  position  the  hands 
were  in  on  the  fourth,  fifth,  sixth  and  subsequent  days?  Dr.  Burns — It  is  quite 
possible. 

10446. — O'Donovan  Rossa,  in  what  position  were  your  hands  manacled  on  the 
fourth  day?    Prisoner — This  way.     (Puis  his  hands  together  behind  his  back.) 

10447. — Repeat  it  in  words,  so  that  the  short-hand  writer  may  take  it  down? 
Prisoner — Behind  my  back ;  but  if  the  doctor  came  at  dinner  time  my  hands  would 
be  in  front. 

10448. — On  the  fifth  day,  in  what  position  were  you  manacled?  Prisoner — My 
hands  behind  my  back. 

10449. — Do  you  positively  assert  that?  Prisoner — Positively;  every  day  for  35 
days. 

10618. — Chairman — Dr.  Burns,  are  you  in  professional  attendance  on  the  Rev.  Mr. 
O'Sullivan,  Roman  Catholic  priest  of  this  prison? — I  am,  my  lord. 

10629. — Is  he  in  a  state  in  which  he  would  be  able  to  give  evidence  ? — He  is  in  a 
very  weakly  state  indeed.  He  has  hardly  been  able  to  crawl  about.  He  is  lying  on 
a  water-bed  or  air-bed  this  morning. 

10620. — Is  his  ailment  mental  or  bodily? — Bodily;  and  he  has  had  hsemoptysis — 
vomiting  of  blood  and  spitting  of  blood.    He  can  hardly  bear  any  excitement. 

10321.-— Then  you  would  not  consider  it  advisable  to  examine  him? — I  would  not 
consider  it  advisable  to  examine  him.    There  is  a  note  to  tell  me  his  state  to-day. 

10660. — I  fancy  that  Rossa,  when  he  first  came  here,  was  at  harder  labor  than  the 
other  Fenians. — I  remember  something  of  that  kind.    It  is  no  doubt  on  record. 

10873. — Chairman — What  is  O'Donovan  Rossa's  present  weight,  Dr.  Burns? — 154 
pounds — the  lowest  he  has  ever  been. 

10874. — You  weighed  him  just  now? — I  did  my  lord. 

This  is  the  Dr.  Burns  who  tortured  Daniel  Reddin  by  piercing  his 
feet  with  needles  and  plunging  him  into  cold  water.  The  unfortunate 
prisoner  is  now  paralyzed  in  Kingstown,  Dublin.  When  he  left  prison 
he  went  to  law  with  Dr.  Burns,  but  the  English  judges  threw  his 
case  out  of  court.  Like  the  men  who  tied  my  hands  behind  rav  back 
for  thirty-five  days  and  afterwards  forgot  they  ever  did  it,  Doctor 
Burns  and  his  agents  were  able  to  satisfy  the  courts  that  Daniel 
Keddin's  story  was  false,  as  they  were  able  to  satisfy  the  Secretary 
of  State  and  the  Secretary  of  State  able  to  satisfy  Parliament 
that  all  I  said  was  moonshine.  Any  one  who  reads  this  chapter 
I  am  writing  can  form  a  pretty  fair  idea  of  the  little  reliance  that 
ought  to  be  placed  on  the  evidence  of  English  officials  when  they 
are  examined  bj  Parliamentary  or  other  Commissions  on  any  ques- 
tion affecting  the  management  of  English  institutions.  Such  quib- 
bling and  contradictions  and  "  forgetfulness  "  1  have  never  read  of, 
as  I  witnessed  myself.  I  wanted  to  have  the  Rev.  Mr.  O'Sullivan 
produced  to  give  evidence  about  his  seeing  my  hands  cut  by  the 
irons,  and  his  seeing  the  writing  on  the  door  in  blood,  but  the  priest 
was  pronounced  "too  ill  to  appear." 

JAMES  CRANSTON  EXAMINED. 

7499. — Chairman — Are  you  an  assistant  warden  in  the  prison?— Yes,  sir. 

7530. — Dr.  Greenhow — Are  you  quite  sure  that  the  handcuffs  were  put  on  O'Don- 
novan  Rossa  on  the  16th  ? — I  am,  sir.    1  was  present,  sir. 

7543. — Mr.  De  Vere — On  what  day  was  it  you  heard  him  complaining  of  being 
hurt,  and  say  "  Don't  pinch  m.e.?" — L  think,  it  was  next 'morning,,  either  after  exercise, 


0  'Donovan  liossa?s  Prison  Life.  395 

or  when  he  was  dressing  himself  for  exercise.  The  officer  was  putting  them  on,  and 
he  said  "  Don't  pinch  me."    I  do  not  think  he  said  anything  more  about  it. 

7684. — Chairman — As  your  statement,  O'Donovan  Rossa,  differs  from  Cranston's, 
we  think  it  right  to  call  you  together.  Cranston  has  stated  to  the  Commission  that 
he  was  frequently  on  duty  in  the  penal  wards  at  the  time  between  the  17th  of  June 
and  the  middle  of  August,  and  in  answer  to  the  question  put  to  him  1  y  us  he  has 
expressed  his  belief  that  you  were  not  for  more  than  three  or  four  days  with  your 
hands  handcuffed  behind  you.  Now,  that  being  his  statement,  differing  from  yours, 
we  think  it  right  that  you  should  have  an  opportunity  of  putting  to  him,  through  me, 
any  question  that  you  might  wish  to  ask  him  which  you  think  might  tend  to  show 
that  your  version  is  correct  and  that  he  is  under  a  mistake.  It  is  stated  that  you 
were  not  more  than  three  or  four  days  with  your  hands  manacled  behind  you. 
That  is  a  correct  statement  of  what  you  told  us,  is  it  not  ?    Cranston — Behind,  sir. 

7685. — Do  you  believe  that  he  was  not  for  more  than  three  or  four  days  with  his 
hands  handcuffed  behind  ?    Cranston — Yes. 

7686. — Do  you  wish  to  put  any  question  upon  that  statement  through  me  ?  O'Don- 
novan  Rossa — Ask  him,  my  lord,  if  you  please,  how  often  did  he  take  off  or  put  on 
the  handcuffs  ? 

7687. — How  often  did  you  take  off  or  put  on  the  handcuffs  during  the  period  refer- 
red to?  Cranston — Frequently  during  this  time,  to  take  his  food  and  exercise. 
Rossa — Please,  my  lord,  to  ask  him  could  he  make  a  guess  at  the  number  of  times? 

7688 — When  you  say  "  frequently,"  can  )^ou  define  the  number  of  times ;  eighteen, 
twenty,  or  thirty,  or  how  often  ?    Cranston — Not  exactly  the  number  of  times,  sir. 

7690 — But  you  cannot  tell  the  number  of  times  the  handcuffs  were  so  changed? 
Cranston — No,  not  exactly,  sir.  Rossa — Ask  him,  my  lord,  did  he  change  them  six 
times  during  the  whole  time  ? 

7691. — Did  you  change  them  six  times?  Cranston — Yes,  more  than  that.  Rossa — 
Ask  him,  did  he  change  them  ten  times,  my  lord 

7692. — Did  you  change  them  ten  times?    Cranston — Well,  I  might  say  I  have. 

7696. — Do  you  think  that  you  changed  them  twelve  times?  Cranston — I  cannot 
say  exactly.    Rossa — Is  he  sure  of  ten  times,  my  lord. 

7697. — Are  you  sure  of  10  times?    Cranston — Yes,  I  say  10  times. 

7698. — You  have  no  doubt  of  10?  Cranston — No,  my  lord.  Rossa — I  ask  these 
questions  for  the  purpose  of  having  the  same  questions  asked  of  them  all,  for  the  whole 
number  of  times  could  be  taken  and  then  the  sum  divided  by  the  number  of  times  a 
day. 

7703. — Rossa — In  the  10  times  that  he  changed  the  handcuffs,  my  lord,  how  many 
times  did  he  change  them  at  the  dinner  hour? 

7704. — How  many  of  those  10,  when  you  changed  the  handcuffs  from  rear  to  front 
took  place  at  the  dinner  hour?  Cranston  I  think  I  done  it  twice  or  three  times  after 
dinner." 

This  man  saw  me  with  my  hands  bound  behind,  nearly  every  day 
during  the  five  weeks. 

W.    T.    ALISON  EXAMINED. 

8414.  Do  you  recollect,  in  June,  receiving  instructions  from  the  then  Deputy- 
Governor  to  put  the  prisoner,  O'Donovan  Rossa,  in  irons?— Yes,  my  lord,  I  believe — 
yes,  yes. 

8419.  What  did  you  do  in  consequence  ?  Was  there  any  mode  specified  in  which 
you  were  to  put  on  the  irons  or  handcuffs? — To  the  best  of  my  belief,  my  lord,  it  was 
to  "  put  him  in  handcuffs  behind." 

8437.  Except  that  one  day,  is  it  your  impression  that  3*011  have  seen  O'Donovan 
Rossa  in  handcuffs  behind  some  other  days? — I  believe  he  was  more  than  one  day  in 
handcuffs  behind,  but  I  do  not  1hink,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge,  my  lord,  that  he 
was  more  than  three  days  in  handcuffs  behind. 

8464.    Chairman — What  do  you  say  ? — I  never  saw  such  punishment  carried  on,  sir. 

8467.  Chairman — The  reason  you  do  not  think  it  might  have  been  continued  for 
thirty  days  is  that  you  never  saw  such  punishment  imposed? — I  did  not,  my  lord. 

8573.  I  now  finally  conclude  that  you  have  no  means  of  saying,  although  the  or- 
der was  given  to  you,  on  what  day,  or  what  period  of  the  day,  O'Donovan  Rossa  was 
first  put  in  irons? — I  am  unable  to  say, 

8600.  Was  he  put  in  irons  in  consequence  of  that  offence  of  allowing  the  water  to 
run  wa>te? — No,  I  think  not,  sir;  I  think  not.  I  am  not  aware.  Yes,  sir,  here  it  is. 
The  Governor  gave  orders  for  the  prisqnerXRossa)  to  be  removed  to  another  cell,  and 


396  (y Donovan  Jlossctfs  Prison  Life. 

to  be  placed  in  handcuffs  during  the  time  some  alterations  were  being  made  to  the 
tap  of  the  closet. 

8614.  Did  it  ever  happen  in  your  experience  of  prison  life  that  a  prisoner  was 
handcuffed  in  any  way,  either  in  front  or  behind,  for  such  a  period  as  35  days? — 
Never,  sir. 

8615.  Never?— Never. 

8617.  I  ask  you  what  is  the  longest  period  in  which,  in  your  experience,  you 
have  known  a  prisoner  to  be  handcuffed iu  any  way? — 72  hours. 

8627.  If  he  states  positively  that  he  was  handcuffed  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back  for  35  days  consecutively,  do  you,  having  seen  those  entries  there  of  his  being 
/laily  handcuffed  for  so  many  days  consecutively,  think  it  likely  that  he  was  hand- 
cuffed with  his  hands  behind  h  s  back,  in  accordance  with  the  first  entry? — I  should 
cot  think  he  was,  sir. 

8628.  Why? — I  do  not  think  that  ever  there  was  such  an  order  given.  I  do  not 
think  t   ere  was  ever  a  man  that  underwent  that  punishment  for  35  days. 

8650.  Did  he  resist  the  application  of  the  handcuffs  on  those  occasions? — No,  sir. 

8651.  He  was  perfectly  quiet? — I  believe  so. 

8652.  He  did  not  make  any  resistance  which  would  cause  you  to  hurt  him  in 
putting  on  ihe  handcuffs? — No,  sir. 

8654=     D  dhe  show  yu  any  marks  on  his  hands? — "Well,  it  was  just  very  slight,  sir. 

8657.  Was  there  on:y  one  mark,  or  was  there  more  than  one? — That  I  am  also 
unable  to  say.  There  might  h  ve  been  two.  He  complained,  and  I  made  the  remark 
that  the  most  caretullest  man  mLht  n  p  a  person  in  putting  the  handcuffs  on. 

8684.  Doyou  recollect  any  occasion  of  a  second  <  ffence  being  comm  tfed,  say  at 
the  time  in  which  he  v?l.S  on  penal  cla-s  d  er? — Af'er  he  had  been  released  from  the 
handcuffs,  according  to  his  own  statement,  they  were  put  on  again.  Who  put  them 
on  again  after  letting  the  water  run? — I  labor  under  the  impression  that  it  was  me, 
my  lord ;  I  think  so,  but  I  am  not  sure. 

8685.  Were  the  irons  then  put  on  in  front  or  behind? — Behind,  I  believe,  my  lord. 

8691  Mr.  Brodekick — Do  you  recollect  having  to  assist  O'Donovan  Rossa  in  but- 
toning or  unbuttoning  his  clothes  during  this  period  that  he  was  in  irons? — No,  sir, 
[do  not;  I  might  have  done  it,  but  I  do  not  recollect. 

86:>2.  Do  you  recollect  Ins  having  made  holes  in  his  clothes  in  order  to  keep  up 
his  trousers? — He  had  no  braces  on,  my  lord.  He  might  have  done  so.  I  cannot  recol- 
iect. 

8693.  Do  jtou  recollect  on  any  occasion  telling  him  that  there  was  a  place  near 
the  prison  called  "  Jilligum."  and  that  any  prisoner  who  did  not  obey  the  rules  very 
poon  found  his  way  to  it? — I  do  not  recollect  that  sir,  but  I  might  have  done  so.  I 
have  often  given  that  caution  to  prisoners  that  wTould  persist  in  coming  from  the 
cells.    I  have  told  t  em  that  very  same  thing,  and  advised  them  to  keep  out  of  it. 

8694.  What  is  "  Jilligum?"'— Gillingham  Cemetery. 

8714.  Mr.  Broderick — Referring  once  more,  Mr.  Alison,  to  the  occasion  in  August, 
1868,  when  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  confined  in  the  dark  cell,  do  you  remember  refus- 
ing to  give  him  any  clothing? — Yes,  sir. 

8722.  Did  you  or  either  of  the  others,  to  the  best  of  j-our  knowledge,  lift  your- 
self up  and  leap  with  the  knee  foremost  on  his  chest? — I  cannot  say,  sir.  If  there 
was  anything  occurred  it  was  a  regular  up  and  down  thing. 

8724.  Dr.  Lyons- Is  1  e  so  strong  that  be  could  resist  three  of  you? — I  had  a 
(Treat  many  men  to  remove  to  the  dark  cell,  but  I  never  got  a  wetter  shirt  from  any 
man  than  I  did  from  O'Donovan  Rossa.    I  never  had  a  more  difficult  task  in  my  life. 

What  a  convenient  memory  this  Mr.  Alison  has !  He  can't  re- 
member anything  lie  did,  but  he  can  invent  lies,  for  I  never  gave 
him  any  trouble  going  to  a  dark  cell.  I  always  went,  in  obedience 
to  the  order,  "  come  on." 

ALFRED  BROWN  EXAMINED. 

12178.  Do  you  recollect  an  occasion  on  which  O'Donovan  Rossa  committed  an  as- 
sault by  throwing  water  on  the  Governor? — Yes,  sir. 

12198.  How  many  tinr  s,  I  am  asking  you,  did  you  put  the  handcuffs  on?  Did 
you  put  them  on  five  timei,  or  ten  t.mes,  or  twenty  times? — Yes,  sir,  I  dare  say  I 
put  them  on  five  times. 

12199.  D.d  you  put  them  on  more  t  an  five  times  ?    (No  answer.) 

12200.  Can  you  not  recollect  whether  you  put  them  on  more  than  five  times  ? — It 
is  so  long  ago  now,  sir,  that  I  cannot  remember  the  time. 


0' 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  3(j7 

12232.  Supposing  the  first  entry  is  "handcuffed  behind  his  back,"  and  then  it 
goes  on  for  twenty  days,  say,  with  the  word  "handcuffed"  without  the  words  "  be- 
hind his  back,"  wouid  that  imply  punishment  in  the  same  way  during  the  whole  of 
those  twenty  days?— No,  sir. 

12233.  Would  it  imply  that  it  did  not  go  on  more  than  the  first  time  ? — That  he 
was  handcuffed? 

12234.  What  would  it  imply,  supposing,  on  the  second  day,  the  entry  simply  is 
handcuffed?    (No  answer.) 

12235.  You  say  that  he  was  handcuffed  with  the  hands  behind  the  second  days 
and  yet  the  entry  does  not  show  it.  How  do  you  account  for  that?  The  entry  on 
the  second  day  is  just  the  same  as  the  entry  on  the  tenih  day.  You  say  he  was  not 
handcuffed  behind  on  the  tenth  day,  but  was  on  the  second  day.  Why  was  not 
the  entry  put  on  the  second  day?    Can  you  answer  that  question?    (No  answer.) 

12257.  Surely,  you  were  about  him  every  day,  and  you  can  remember  about  how 
many  days  he  was  handcuffed  after  that  assault? — No,  sir ;  I  cannot. 

12258.  Do  you  think  it  was  a  week? — Handcuffed  all  together  sir? 

12259.  Yes ?    Either  behind  or  before? 

12260.  Yes ;  either  behind  or  before  ? — No  ;  I  couldn't  say,  sir. 

12261.  You  cannot  say  whether  it  was  a  week  or  a  month  ? — No,  sir ;  not  at  that 
one  time. 

12262.  And  yet  it  was  your  duty  to  attend  to  those  cells? — He  may  have  had  a 
month  on  and  off. 

12263.  Are  you  quite  sure  that,  during  that  month  when  he  had  them  on  and  off, 
he  was  not  handcuffed  with  the  hands  behind  every  day? — I  am  positive  of  it,  sir. 

122S6.  You  have  already  told  Lord  Devon  that  the  handcuffs  were  put  on  behind 
for  three  days,  and  that  they  were  taken  off  and  put  in  front  whilst  he  ate  his  meals. 
You  now  tell  me  that  they  were  taken  off  altogether.  Now,  consider,  were  they 
taken  off  for  him  to  eat  his  meals  or  not  ?     (No  answer.) 

12287.  Chairman  It  is  a  simple  fact.  Can  you  tell  us  whether,  or  not? — It  is 
so  long  ago,  sir,  that  I  cannot  remember  these  things. 

12288.  Dr.  Greenhow — In  fact,  you  remember  nothing  about  it,  is  that  the 
case? — Not  any  dates,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  I  cannot. 

12290.  And  is  it  a  common  thing  for  men  to  be  handcuffed  for  about  a  month? 
— No,  sir. 

12291.  And  would  not  such  a  circumstance  attract  your  attention? — Not,  in 
the  way  O'Donovan  liossa  conducted  himself,  it  would  not,  sir. 

12292.  Would  not  the  very  way  he  conducted  himself  lead  you  to  pay  attention 
to  the  handcuffing ;  it  seems  to  me  that  the  man's  having  conducted  himself  badly 
would  lead  you  to  pay  greater  attention  to  the  circumstances  of  his  case?  (No 
answer.) 

12308.  Supposing  a  man  is  ordered  to  be  handcuffed  behind,  would  it  usually  last 
three  days  ? — I  don't  remember  he  having  them  on  any  way,  sir. 

12360.  You  repeat  over  and  over  again  a  period  ox  three  days;  but  I  want  to  know 
have  you  any  re, ison  for  stating  that  he  was  only  handcuffed  behind  three  days? — 
Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  state  any  particular  reason. 

12363.  Now,  will  you  look  at  this  book;  whose  handwriting  is  that  (an  entry  in 
the  separate  cells  book)  ? — Mine,  sir. 

12364.  Is  that  your  entry  (another  entry)  ? — Yes,  sir. 

12365.  "J.  O'Donovan  Ross  i  placed  in  handcuffs  behind,  by  order  of  the  Gover- 
nor ;"  is  that  your  handwriting?— Yes,  sir. 

12366.  Is  that  your  handwriting  (another  entry)  ? — Yes,  sir. 

12367.  "  J.  O'Donovan  Rossa,  handcuffs  removed  from  behind  by  order  of  the 
Governor ;"  is  that  your  handwriting? — Yes,  sir. 

12368.  On  the  18th  there  is  another  entry,  "J.  O'Donovan  Rossa  replaced  in 
handcuffs  by  order  of  the  Governor  ;"  is  that  your  handwriting? — Yes,  sir. 

12414.  Is  that? — Yes,  sir.  (Witness  identifies  several  other  entries  as  his  hand- 
writing.) 

12416.  From  the  17th  of  June  down  to  the  21st  of  July,  the  majority  of  the  en- 
tries here  which  have  reference  to  the  handcuffing  of  O'Donovan  Rossa  are  in  your 
handwriting? — Yes,  s  r. 

12423.  Dr.  Greenhow — Do  you  recollect  distinctly  that  you  put  them  on  yourself? 
— Yes,  sir 

12424.  Dr.  Lyons — You  see  that  is  not  consistent  with  what  you  said  a  little 
while  ago?    (No  reidy.) 

l?42t>.  You  feel,  no  doubt,  that  after  the  prisoner  throwing  the  water  on  the  Gov- 
ernor, you  shut  the  door  of  the  cell  yourself? — Yes,  sir. 

1247,'".  Du.  Greenhow — You  have  just  been  cautioned  on  the  subject.  We  have 
seen  the  evidence  you  gave  on  the  trial  of  the  case  before  Captain  Du  Cane.    I  want 


393  O'Donovan  Rossa's  Prison  Life, 

to  know  how  you  reconcile  your  statements.  You  have  told  me  that  you  shut  the 
door  yourself;  on  that  occasion  you  swore  that  O'Donovan  Rossa  shut  the  door  vio- 
lently. This  is  your  evidence  and  is  signed  Alfred  Brown :  "  Being  duly  sworn  states, 
on  Tuesday  the  16th  of  June,  1863,  at  about  12.10  p.  m.  I  accompanied  the  Governor 
on  an  inspection  of  the  cells  in  the  penal  class.  When  in  the  usual  way  I  opened  449, 
prisoner  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa's,  door  and  called  him  to  "  attention,"  he  being 
at  the  time  sitting  on  stool  c  ose  to  the  door,  when  he  rose  up  off  the  stool  and  made 
a  movement  I  thought,  of  picking  up  a  jacket  to  put  on  as  he  was  sewing  it,  instead 
oi  whicn  ne  picked  up  his  cell-pot  and  threw  the  contents  over  the  Governor,  which 
covered  him  from  head  to  foot  and  myself.  He  then  slammed  the  door  to,  in  the  Gov- 
ernor's face,  n  the  most  violent  manner." 

12487.  How  do  you  reconcile  what  you  have  three  times  told  me  distinctly,  that 
j-ou  shut  the  door,  and  here  I  show  you  that  you  swore  Rossa  slammed  it  out  himself; 
how  do  you  reconcile  that? — I  am  wrong  there,  sir. 

You  are,  and  in  several  other  places  also.  But  you  are  only  one 
of  the  small  fry.  Let  us  take  a  look  now  at  your  superior  officer, 
Captain  Wickham  Talbot  Harvey,  "  an  officer  and  a  gentleman,"  and 
see  the  figure  he  cuts  in  truth-telling. 

CAPTAIN  WICKHAM  TALBOT  HARVEY  EXAMINED. 

12505.  Chairman — You  are,  I  believe,  at  present  Governor  of  the  convict  prison 
at  Portsmouth? — Yes,  my  lord. 

12598.  H  -w  long,  according  to  your  recollection,  was  O'Donovan  Rossa  hand- 
cuffed at  all,  whether  in  front  or  behind? — Well,  I  should  not  think  more  than  five 
days  at  the  outside,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect. 

12604.  Have  you  ever  known  a  prisoner  handcuffed  for  as  many  as  34  days?— No, 
never. 

12620.  Then  if  it  should  appear  that  these  three  books  (the  senior  officer's  hook, 
Alison's  book,  and  the  Governor's  book,  which  was  probably  kept  by  Harvey 
himself),  kept  by  different  officers,  all  men  of  the  highest  character,  concur  in 
showing  that  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  handcuffed  continuously  day  after  day  for  a  pe- 
riod of  34  or  35  days,  would  it  make  you  inclined  to  doubt  the  accuracy  of  your  mem- 
ory?   I  should  prefer  the  entry  of  those  tiree  to  my  own  memory,  certainly. 

12642.  Was  O'Donovan  Rossa  very  violent  on  the  occasion  of  that  assault?  He 
was.  He  threw  Principal  Warder  Alison,  who  was  a  troop  sergeant-major  of  the  16th 
Lancers,  clean  over  his  shoulders  as  if  he  was  merely  a  child. 

12643.  When  was  that?    I  cannot  remember. 

I  am  willing  to  give  him  credit  for  telling  the  truth  here  when  he 
says  he  "  cannot  remember,"  for  such  a  thing  never  happened  be- 
tween Alison  and  me;  but  he  soon  again  relapses  into  lying  by  say- 
ing I  was  violent  during  the  handcuffing. 

12713.  You  say  Rossa  was  violent  during  the  period  of  the  handcuffing?— Yes. 

12714.  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  from  personal  observation? — Yes.  The  fact  is 
that  when  I  went  round  I  used  to  speak  to  him  in  as  friendly  a  manner  as  I  could,  and 
I  used  to  advise  him  to  keep  quiet  and  so  on.  I  told  him  he  was  only  making  matters 
worse  for  himself.  Sometimes  he  used  to  laugh  and  sometimes  break  out,  and  my 
impression  is  that  a  great  deal  of  this  outbreak  on  his  part  was  that  he  was  under  the 
impression  th  .t,  sooner  or  later,  it  would  bring  his  case  before  the  public.  It  was 
my  impression  all  along  that  he  would  somehow  or  other  manage  to  establish  a  case 
of  ill-tre  tment,  because  on  more  than  one  occasion  when  he  tried  the  temper  of 
Principal  Warder  Alison  he  looked  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Well,  it  is  curious  you  have 
done  nothing  to  me." 

12745.  Dr.  Greenhow— You  spoke  some  time  since  of  the  language  that  O'Dono- 
van Ros-a  had  used  towards  the  warders.  Can  you  give  any  instance  of  it?— Well,  I 
cannot  exactlv  recollect  the  language. 

12746.  Dr.  Lyons.— Was  there  anything  in  Rossa's  language  that  you  describe  as 
violent,  more  than  what  you  mentioned  to  Dr.  Greenhow,  that  he  characterized  them 
as  being  minions  of  the  British  Government?  I  mean,  did  he  use  foul  language?— No  ; 
I  cannot  say  that  he  used  foul  language.    Oh,  no,  he  did  not,  but  it  was  of  an  irrita. 


0' Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life.  399 

tive  character.    "  Servants  of  a  tyrannical  government,"  and  "  eating  the  bread  of," 
I  don't  know  what;  I  can't  recollect  now. 

12752.  Mr.  De  Verb— You  said  that  seeing  those  entries  makes  you  feel  some- 
what distrustful  of  the  accuracy  of  your  memory  ? — They  do ;  there  is  no  doubt  about  it. 

12753.  Would  it  make  you  somewhat  more  distrustful  if  you  were  aware  that  the 
chief  medical  officer,  and  the  Governor,  Captain  Powell,  have  both  given  evidence 
that  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  under  restraint  in  one  way  or  other  from  30  to  35  consecu- 
tive days  at  that  time  ? — Of  course,  anything  further  that  can  be  adduced  of  an  oppo- 
site character  would  shake  my  confidence  in  my  memory. 

Hibbert  was  the  man  that  leaped  upon  me,  and  Giddings  was  the 
man  that  struck  me  softly  with  the  club,  and  it  is  strange  that  they 
were  the  only  two  that  could  speak  anything  like  truth  to  the  Com- 
missioners. They  ought  to  be  promoted.  I  recommend  them  t<» 
the  consideration  of  my  friends,  Captain  Du  Cane  and  Captain 
Gambier. 

WILLIAM   HIBBERT,  EXAMINED. 

9195.  Chairman — Had  you  charge  of  treason-felony  convict  O'Donovan  Rossa? — 
I  had,  sir. 

9210.  Chairman — Did  you  see  him  with  the  hands  m  macled  behind  on  more  than 
one  occasion? — Yes,  sir. 

9213.  How  many  times  did  you  see  him  manacled  behind? — A  few,  sir.  Five 
times?    Yes,  more. 

9215.  Ten  times?  It  may  be  more.  In  my  opinion — a  month  altogether  to  the  best 
of  my  opinion. 

9233.  Mr.  Lyons — Are  you  positive  that  when  you  saw  him  at  night  for  the 
purpose  of  having  the  handcuffs  removed,  and  having  him  released  for  the  night,  he 
was  in  most  instances  handcuffed  behind? — Yes,  sir. 

JOB  GIDDINGS,   EXAMINED. 

9269.  Chairman — What  part  of  the  prison  we-e  you  in,  in  the  months  of  June, 
July  and  August,  '68? — In  the  separate  cells,  sir,  at  different  periods  of  the  day;  not 
all  day ,  sir. 

9270.  Did  you  during  that  time  see  the  prisoner  O'Donovan  Rossa? — Yes  sir. 
9282.    Did  you  ever  see    im  w.th  his  hands  handcuffed   before   h.m? — Yes,  sir, 

during  the  time  he  was  at  his  meals. 

2983.  Excepting  tuat  time,  do  you  think  that  the  hands  were  always  handcuffed 
behind  him? — Yes,  sir. 

9284.    Always?— Yes,  sir. 

9235.    For  a  month  ? — For,  I  cannot  say  how  long ;  several  days  I  should  say. 

9286.    Several  days?— Yes,  sir. 

9237.  Was  he  in  handcuffs,  to  your  knowledge,  for  more  than  a  month?  Well,  I 
could  not  say,  sir. 

9300.  Are  you  clear  in  your  recollection  that  you  saw  him  10,  or  15,  or  20  d  iys, 
during  the  period  he  was  in  handcuffs  altogether,  and  that  of  that  time  such  a  portion 
as  you  name  you  saw  him  with  the  ■anis  behind? — My  d.ity  w.^s  to  take  his  supper 
things  away  from  him  and  place  his  handcuffs  behind  him. 

9301.  How  often  did  you  do  that? — Every  night,  or  nearly  every  night,  sir. 

9302.  For  a  week  or  two? — Yes,  sir. 

9303.  Three  weeks  ?— Well,  it  might  be  that,  sir 

9304.  Mr.  Brodekick — When  you  took  away  his  supper  things,  did  you  find  his 
hands  before  or  behind  ? — Before  him,  sir. 

9305.  Did  you  ever  leave  him  after  supper  with  the  hands  before  him? — No,  sir. 

9306.  You  never  failed  to  replace  the  hands  behind? — No,  sir. 

9313.  Do  you  say  that  you  distinctly  remember  unloosing  the  manacles  which 
bound  the  hands  in  front,  and  replacing  them  behind  the  back? — Yes,  sir. 

9314.  Do  you  remember  doing  that  distinctly,  on  several  occasions? — Yes,  sir. 

9315.  Night  after  night,  after  you  took  away  his  suppe«r  things? — Yes,  sir.  There 
was  another  officer  with  me  at  the  time. 

9316.  Who  was  that  officer?— Mr.  Hibbert. 

9317.  You  actuall  ■:  took  off  the  manacles  from  before  and  put  them  behind  ? — Yes, 
sir ;  we  used  to  do  it ;  took  off  one  cuft. 


400  0*  Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life. 

9318.  Describe  how  you  did  it? — We  took  off  one  of  the  cuffs  from  the  wrist  and 
turned  it  round. 

9319.  You  turned  his  hand  round?— Rossa  would  put  his  hand  this  way  (witness 
put  his  hands  together  behind  his  back)  and  1  would  put  the  handcuffs  on. 

9320.  Do  you  remember  distinctly,  unloosing  one  cuff,  placing  the  hands  behind, 
and  then  putting  on  the  handcuffs  ? — Yes,  sir. 

9321.  You  cannot  be  deceived  in  your  recollection  of  it? — No,  sir. 

9322.  Mr.  Broderick — Did  he  ever  resist  on  any  of  those  occasions? — No,  sir; 
never. 

9323.  Dr.  Lyons — He  always  yielded  quietly  to  have  the  manacles  changed 
from  front  to  rear  after  meals? — Yes,  sir. 

I  now  proceed  to  convict  the  English  Secretary  of  State  of 
deliberate.,  intentional  lying.  I  lay  before  my  readers  the  following 
documentary  evidence,  and  if  they  do  not  bring  in  a  verdict  of 
"  guilty,"    I  will  be  very  much  disappointed. 

[Fromthe  Irishman  of  June  the  12th,  1869.] 

THE  TREATMENT  OF  0 'DONOVAN  ROSS  A. 

REPLY  of  the  government  and  prison  officials  TO  SIR  JOHN  gray's  question. 

"  On  last  Friday  week  Sir  John  Gray  asked  the  Secretary  of  State  the  following 
question,  notice  of  which  he  had  given  two  days  previously : 

Sir  J.Gray  asked  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Home'Departmentif  his  attention 
had  been  directed  to  the  statement  published  in  one  of  the  Irish  newspapers,  appa- 
rently on  authority  to  the  effect  that  the  prison  authorities  so  secured  the  hands  of 
one  of  the  political  prisoners  by  manacles  behind  his  back,  that  he  could  neither  dress 
nor  undress,  or  raise  food  to  his  mouth,  and  continued  this  cruelty  for  35  days;  and, 
if  the  statement  was  true,  was  the  circumstance  reported  to  the  Home  office,  and  was 
there  any  objection  to  place  the  report  before  the  House,  with  a  statement  as  to 
whether  the  officer  guilty  of  this  cruelty  was  reprimanded  or  otherwise  dealt  with, 
and  how  ? 

Mr.  Bruce  replied — I  am  obliged  to  my  Hon.  friend  for  making  this  inquiry,  for  it  is 
clear  that  the  statement  he  has  just  made,  if  true,  ought  to  be  explained;  if  not  true, 
it  ought  to  be  contradicted.  Now,  the  facts  with  regard  to  this  unfortunate  man — 
O'Donovan  Rossa — are  these  :  He  was  committed  to  Pentonville  on  the  23d  of  Decem- 
ber, 1865.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  prisoners  would  be  detained  there  nine 
months  before  being  sent  to  the  convict  prison.  But  it  was  thought  more  humane, 
and  more  conducive  to  their  health,  to  s<"nd  these  prisoners  at  once  to  Portland,  which, 
if  I  may  use  the  expression,  is  the  most  cheerful,  and  certainly  most  healthful  of  all 
our  convict  prisons.  His  conduct  there  was  so  violent  and  outrageous,  and  produced 
so  bad  an  effect  upon  the  other  Fenian  prisoners,  that  it  was  found  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  send  him  to  Millbank,  to  which  place  he  was  rem<  >ved  in  February,  1867.  What 
his  conduct  was  while  at  Portland  is  described  in  the  reports  of  Messrs.  Knox  and 
Pollock.  The  House  will,  perhaps,  allow  me  to  read  an  extract  from  this  report,  more 
especially  as  it  is  stated  in  the  report  from  which  my  Hon.  friend  quotes  that  O'Don- 
ovan Rossa  was  of  a  gentle  and  tractable  disposition.    The  report  says : 

"  The  convictRossa  is  a  dangerous  man,  and  must  remain  the  object  of  unceasing 
anxiety  and  vigilance  to  the  authorities.  The  senior  warder  at  Millbank,  a  man  of 
no  mean  experience  in  convict  life,  said  that  in  the  whole  course  of  his  career  he  had 
never  met  with  the  equal  of  this  most  unfortunate  man,  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa. 
He  had  no  ill-usage  to  complain  of-no  severity  but  of  his  own  seeking.  He  must 
amend  his  ways,  or  abide  his  fate." 

Again  it  was  said: 

"  As  long  as  the  treason-felony  convict  Jeremiah  O'Donavan  Rossa  was  at  Port- 
land, so  long  were  these  prisoners  in  a  state  of  chronic  discontent,  which  found  its 
expression  in  daily  acts  of  insobordination  and  words  of  insolent  defiance.  He  has 
most  properly  been  removed  to  Millbank,  ami  an  entirely  different  state  of  facts  pre- 
vails. Since  Rossa's  removal  the  prison  authorities  express  themselves  as  fir  more 
satisfied  with  the  conduct  of  the  treason-felony  convicts ;  the  convicts  declare  them- 
selves far  more  content  with  the  treatment  they  receive  from  the  outhoritics.  '  At 
present  I  find  the  state  of  things  here  almost  relatively  perfect  happiness,'  said  trea- 
son-ielony  convict  O'Leary  to  us.  '  The  conduct  of  the  convicts  has  been  far  better, 
they  are  far  more  industrious,  ad  far  less  indolent,'  was  in  effect  the  language  of  the 
warders,  many  of  whom  in  terms  attributed  the  change  to  the  removal  of  Rossa. 


(J Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life.  401 

After  spending  a  year  at  Millbank,  he  was  removed  to  Chatham  on  the  24th  of 
February,  1868,  and  during  the  greater  part  of  the  time  he  continued  at  Chatham  the 
conduct  which  he  had  exhibited  while  at  Portland.  I  will  not  weary  the  House  by 
reading  a  list  of  the  offences  for  which  he  has  received  punishment,  but  will  refer 
only  to  those  which  occurred  in  Jane  last.  On  the  5th  of  June  he  was  reported  for 
highly  insubordinate  conduct,  using  abusive  language,  refusing  to  get  out  of  bed, 
and  disturbing  the  quiet  of  the  penal  class,  and  he  was  sentenced  to  three  days'  close 
confinement  on  punishment  diet.  On  the  9th  of  June  he  was  reported  for  insubordi- 
nation and  disrespectiul  conduct  to  the  Governor,  wilfully  damaging  two  vests,  highly 
insubordinate  and  disrespectful  conduct  towards  t!  e  Governor,  and  defacing  his  cell 
door,  and  he  was  sentenced  to  two  days'  close  confinement.  Onthel5th  of  June  he  was 
reported  for  refusing  to  leave  his  cell  and  disrespectful  conduct  to  the  Governor, 
for  refusing  to  clean  his  basin  and  damaging  his  vest  and  a  gutta-percha  pint,  and  sen- 
tenced to  two  days'  confinement.  On  the  17th  of  June  he  was  reported  for  throw- 
ing the  contents  of  his  cell  pot  in  the  Governor's  face,  when  under  punishment  in  the 
separate  cells.  The  prisoner  having  committed  these  acts  ol  violence,  and  being 
a  very  powerful  man — so  powerful  that  it  required  three  or  four  warders  to  master 
him— was  for  awhile  manacled  with  his  hands  behind  his  hack.  But,  so  far  from 
being  kept  in  this  condition  thirty-five  days,  he  was  only  so  for  a  part  of  a  day." 

The  "last  Friday  week  "  mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  this 
quotation,  was  the  4th  of  June;  and,  looking  to  page  59  of  the 
Keport  of  Lord  Devon  and  his  brother  Commissioners,  I  find  under 
the  head  of  that  date  the  following  reply  from  the  Governor  of  the 
Prison  to  a  telegram  from  the  Board  of  Directors,  London : 

"  Chatham  Prison,  June  4th,  1S69. 

"  Sir:  With  reference  to  your  telegram  requesting  to  know  how  many  days  Reg. 
No.  9,549,  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  placed  in  handcuffs  after  his  assault  upon 
me,  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  he  was  placed  in  them  on  the  morning  of  the 
17th  of  June  and  kept  in  them  each  successive  day,  as  a  measure  of  precaution  to 
prevent  his  repeating  a  similar  act  when  visited  by  either  myself  or  an  officer  of  the 
prison,  till  the  20th  July  ;  the  handcuffs  being  invariably  removed  each  day  at  7.45 
P.  M.,  and  not  replaced  till  the  following  morning, 

"  Wm.  Pagan,  Esq.  "  T.  F.  POWELL,  Governor." 

There  is  no  doubt  but  that  this  information  was  required  for 
the  Secretary  of  State,  and  that  he  had  it  in  his  possession  the  same 
evening  when  he  made  his  statement  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
But  should  any  of  my  jury  hesitate,  I  will  not  press  for  Mr.  Bruce's 
conviction  yet  awhile.  I  will  give  the  Secretary  three  weeks  addi- 
tional time  to  get  the  information  from  the  Board  of  Directors, 
and  I  will  direct  the  attention  of  the  jury  to  another  debate  in  the 
House  of  Commons  on  the  evening  of  June  the  29th. 

George  Henry  Moore  has  reason  to  doubt  the  truth  of  the  reply 
given  to  Sir  John  Gray,  and  he  introduces  the  subject  a  second 
time.     I  quote  from  the  Irishman  of  July  3d : 

"  The  following  supplement  gives  that  portion  of  Mr.  Moore's  speech  in  full  where 
he  introduces  the  Warder's  evidence  : 

4  Now,  the  incessant  infliction  of  such  frivolous  severities  is  one  of  the  principal 
subjects  of  complaint  which  runs  through  the  whole  of  the  statements  of  these  pris- 
oners. But  that  is  not  all.  Weighing  these  various  statements  one  with  the  other, 
and  with  regard  to  corroborative  evidence  of  impartial  witnesses,  it  is  impossible  to 
doubt  that  the  penal  labors  to  which  these  men  were  sentenced  was,  with  deliberate 
purpose,  made  unnecessarily  galling  by  the  connecting  it  with  insulting  concomitants 
and  ignominious  associations  ;  that  the  fact  that  they  were  felons,  and  to  be  treated  as 
other  felons,  was  thrust  constantly  upon  their  notice ;  and  that  their  resentment  of 
tkese  indignities  was  visited  by  punishment  which  was  intended  for  obdurate  ruffians 


402  0'  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life. 

andnotfor  the  sensitive  impatience  of  high-spirited  men.  We  have  heard  of  the  dread, 
i'ul  outrage  committed  by  O'Donovan  Rossa  on  one  of  the  authorities  of  the  prison ;  but 
who  can  know  of  the  long  tale  of  cruel  provocations  winch  goaded  that  rebellious  na- 
ture into  the  mad  attempt  to  repel  indi-gnity  with  indignity  ?  One  part  of  his  story  was 
published  to  the  world,  and  was  subsequently  contradicted  in  the  most  peremptory  and 
circumstantial  manner  by  the  Secretary  of  State.  But  I  have  been  furnished  with  a 
formal  deposition,  professing  to  corroborate  the  original  statements  in  all  their  essen- 
tial particulars.  It  has  been  sent  to  me  by  Messrs.  Mernman,  solicitors,  in  this  city, 
who  state  in  their  letter  to  me  that  they  have  taken  it  down  from  the  deponent's 
lips,  and  here  it  is : 

|  "  June  25,  1869. 

"  Joseph  Kay,  of  16  Cross-street,  Palace-road,  Hackney,  late  assistant  warder  of 
Chatham  Prison,  was  assistant  warder  from  April  5,  1865,  till  November  5, 1868,  states 
that  the  prisoner  Kossa,  in  the  months  of  June  and  July,  1863,  was  handcuffed  for 
about  six  weeks  during  those  months  with  his  hands  behind  him,  from  ten  minutes 
past  5  a.  m.  till  7:30  p.  m.,  his  hands  being  removed  in  lront  of  him,  though  still  hand- 
cuffed while  he  took  his  meals.  The  first  meal,  the  breakfast,  occupied  from  5:30 
till  6  a',  m. ;  dinner  from  12:15  till  1:15  p.  m. ;  supper  6:15  till  6:45  p.  m.,  and  at  7:30  the 
handcuffs' were  removed  on  his  going  to  bed.  During  the  whole  of  these  six  weeks  he 
was  confined  in  a  separate  cell,  the  handcuffs  on  him  behind  his  back,  excepting 
when  partaking  of  his  meals  at  the  above  stated  intervals." 

"  This  statement  is  quite  inconsistent  with  the  terms  of  the  contradiction  for- 
warded by  the  prison  authorities  to  the  Home  Secretary,  and  stated  by  him  to  the 
House.  1  trust  that  the  Right  Hon.  gentleman  will  cause  such  an  inquiry  to  be  made 
into  the  matter  as  will  elicit  the  truth.  There  is  only  one  more  observation  which  I 
wish  to  make  before  I  sit  down.  I  have  not  justified,  nor  do  I  seek  to  justify,  a  single 
act  of  the  Fenian  conspiracy,  nor  of  the  insurrection  to  which  it  gave  rise ;  but  I  an? 
convinced  that  there  is  not  one  man  who  lost  his  life  or  his  liberty  in  that  enterprise 
who  would  have  saved  his  life  or  would  now  purchase  his  liberty  by  the  admission, 
that  there  was  guilt  or  shame  in  the  cause  for  which  they  suffered  imprisonment  or 
death.  Nor  can  1,  on  their  part,  or  on  my  own,  make  any  such  admission.  They 
entered  into  a  conspiracy,  the  object  of  which  was  to  make  Ireland  an  independent 
nation  and  the  effect  of  which  has  been  that  the  First  Minister  of  the  Crown  has 
hastened  the  hand  of  the  Parliamentary  clock  to  accomplish  an  act  of  which,  in  his 
pre-Fenian  mind,  he  had  regarded  as  indefinitely  remote.  I  have  already  quoted  the 
prophetic  words  of  Mr.  Charles  Kickham  on  leaving  the  dock  for  penal  servitude. 
They  are  already  fulfilled.  Some  have  died,  and  many  more  have  suffered  in  the  same 
cause  as  he.  But  in  the  gilded  chamber  over  the  way  to-night  "  their  souls  are 
marching  on!"  One  act  of  justice  is  all  but  accomplished  ;  another  is  treading  upon 
its  footsteps,'and  a  third  may  yet  be  seen  "  no  bigger  than  a  man's  band  "  in  the  hori- 
zon and  which  will  yet  all  but  accomplish  what  these  humble  martys  died  and  suf- 
fered to  advance— vague  and  shadowy  as  may  have  been  the  views  and  the  purposes — 
the  means,  they  were  yet  the  shadows  of  real  things — real  misgovernment,  real 
misery,  real  reasonable,  resolute,  disaffection.  Above  all,  they  are  the  shadows  of 
all  that'is  left  of  national  life  in  Ireland— an  abiding  purpose  and  an  immortal  hope, 
which  have  never  been  conquered,  and  which  never  will  die." 

Bravo !  George  Henry  Moore  !  Long  will  your  memory  live  in 
our  souls. 

"  Mr.  Bruce  said  the  House  would  recollect  the  very  remarkable  statement  made 
a  short  time  ago  in  that  House  relative  to  the  treatment  of  O'Donovan  Rossa — namely, 
that  he  was  handcuffed  for  35  days  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  that  his  only  food 
was  gruel.  Two  or  three  days  ago  the  Hon.  member  gave  him  notice  that  he  intended 
to  controvert  the  statements  he  had  made  on  this  subject.  He  applied  to  the  Hon. 
gentleman  for  the  name  of  his  informant,  but  he  declined  to  give  it.  [Mr.  Moore  :  "  I  had 
no  permission  to  give  the  name."]  He  gathered  from  the  statement  of  the  Hon.  gen- 
tleman that  his  informant  was  a  warder  who  had  been  dismissed,  but  if  he  supplied  his 
name  he  could  have  made  inquiries  as  to  the  reasons  for  his  dismissal,  and  whether  his 
testimony  could  safely  be  received.  At  all  evnnts,  he  had  left  the  establishment.  [Mr. 
Moore  :  "  I  know  nothing  about  it."]  He  presumed  he  must  have  left  the  establish- 
ment in  November,  as  the  circumstances  to  which  he  spoke  occurred  between  June 
and  November,  1868.  It  certainly  would  have  been  more  satisfactory  if  the  Hon.  gen- 
tleman had  given  him  an  opportunity  of  inquiring  into  the  character  of  his  witness 
(hear).  He,  on  the  contrary,  believed  in  preference,  the  testimony  of  the  Governor 
and  Deputy-Governor,  who  stated  that  after  the  horrible  assault,  which  he  had  on  a 


C Donovan  I2ossa3-s  Prison  Life.  403 

former  occasion  described,  the  hands  of  O'Doaovan  Ross  i,  were  manacled  behind  his 
back,  for  half  a  day." 

It  was  only  reasonable  that  Mr.  Bruce  should  believe  the  testi- 
mony of  his  officials  in  preference  to  any  other.  You  have  read  the 
evidence  of  the  Governor  admitting  I  was  35  days  manacled,  and 
you  can  read  the  evidence  of  Captain  Du  Cane,  the  Chairman  of  the 
Board  of  Directors,  admitting  he  knew  I  was  all  the  time  in  irons. 
It  was  through  these  Directors  the  Secretary  of  State  received  all 
his  information,  and  now  it  will  be  worth  your  while  to  go  back  a 
few  pages  and  read  the  evidence  of  Captain  Wickham  Talbot  Har- 
vey, the  Deputy-Governor,  on  whom  Mr.  Bruce  relies.  He  cuts  the 
sorriest  figure  of  all  the  witnesses  I  ever  saw  on  a  witness  table. 
The  Commissioners  do  not  believe  a  word  he  says,  and  I  will  end 
my  case  by  giving  some  extracts  from  their  report,  on  the  strength 
of  which  I  demand  a  verdict  not  alone  against  the  Secretary  of  State, 
but  against  Mr.  Gladstone  and  the  whole  English  Government  for 
their  disgraceful  treatment  of  the  Irish  political  prisoners : 

"Report  of  the  Commissioners  appointed  to  inquire  into  the  treatment  of  treason- 
felony  convicts  in  English  prisons.  London:  printed  by  George  Edward  Eyre  &  Wi' - 
liam  Spottiswoode,  printers  to  the  Queen's  most  excellent  Majesty  for  her  Majesty' ? 
stationary  office.    1870:" 

26.  It  appears  that  medical  officers  of  convict  prisons  are  not  required  to  posses? 
qualifications  both  in  medicine  and  surgery,  and  that  in  some  instances,  and  at  cer 
tain  seasons,  the  sole  medical  charge  of  a  large  infirmary,  and  of  1,200  or  1,500  con 
victs  out  of  hospital,  devolves  upon  a  single  officer  having  only  one  professional  quali- 
fication. 

29.  In  the  public  works'  prison  and  in  parts  of  the  invalid  prison  at  Woking,  the 
cells,  being  designed  mainly  for  sleeping,  are  much  smaller,  and,  as  we  think,  too 
small  for  health,  unless  further  provision  be  made  for  ventilation.  All  the  dark  cells, 
but  especially  those  at  Millbank,  appeared  to  us  imperfectly  ventilated,  a  defect 
which  the  entire  exclusion  of  light  renders  the  more  injurious  to  health.  The  dark 
cells  (Pentagon  V,  Millbank),  lrom  their  restricted  dimensions,  their  bad  position, 
and  their  exclusively  defective  ventilation,  demand  immediate  attention. 

33.  The  restrictions  now  imposed  on  the  writing  and  receipt  of  letters,  may,  in 
our  judgment,  be  somewhat  mitigated  without  prejudice  to  discipline.  We  think, 
moreover,  that  when  even  a  letter  is  surpressed,  whether  addressed  to  a  prisoner  or 
written  by  him,  the  fact  and  the  reasons  should  be  forthwith  communicated  to  him. 

26.  The  somewhat  arbitrary  use  of  handcuffs  as  a  measure  of  restraint  calls  for 
notice  in  this  place,  though  we  refer  to  a  later  part  of  our  report,  the  observations 
wh.ch  ar;se  out  of  one  particular  case  to  which  they  were  employed. 

38.  We  have  to  report  that  there  does  not  appear  to  us  to  be  that  uniformity  in 
practice,  or  that  unanimity  in  the  interpretation  of  the  powers  entrusted  to  Gover- 
nors, which  we  should  deem  to  be  desirable  on  so  important  a  subject. 

39.  We  find  a  very  great  concurrence  of  opinion  that  manacles  may  be  imposed 
for  a  period  of  72  hours  and  longer.  Finally,  the  Chairman,  while  admitting  that  the 
period  of  72  hours  cannot  be  exceeded  without  reference  to  a  director,  stated  that  in 
his  opinion,  under  a  literal  construction  of  this  rule,  provided  the  full  period  of  the 
•rder  *snot  exhausted  by  the  continuous  imposition  of  manacles  for  72  consecutive 
hoars,  day  and  night,  at  any  onetime,  a  prisoner  may,  if  the  Governor  deem  fit,  be 
kept  in  manacles  an  indefinite  time. 

41.  We  are  moreover  of  opinion  that,  except  for  the  immediate  control  of 
personal  violence,  and  for  a  short  period  to  be  defined  by  the  Directors,  manacles 
should  not  be  imposed  without  the  written  order  of  a  Governor  or  Deputy  Governor, 
after  a  hearing  of  the  case  ;  that  the  order  should  in  all  cases  specify  the  manner  in 
which  the  manacles  are  to  be  applied,  whether  in  front  or  behind,  and  the  period  for 
which  they  are  to  be  so  continued. 

42.  At  Pentonville  and  Dartmoor,  the  Governors  informed  us  that  refractory  pris- 
oners are  not  kept  in  dark  cells  for  more  than  four  hours,  whereas  at  Chatham  we 
have  found  that  a  prisoner  has  been  frequently  so  confined  for  a  period  varying  from 


4:04  O' Donovan  12ossa?s  Prison  Life. 

one  to  three  days.  We  are  of  opinion  that  confinement  in  a  dark  cell  is  not  to  be  justi- 
fied as  a  simple  measure  of  restraint,  since  the  admission  of  light  is  consistent  with 
the  adoption  of  every  necessary  precaution  against  violence.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  very 
severe  punishment.  We  think:  also  that  a  prisoner  in  a  dark  cell  should  be  allowed 
to  re  lain  his  bed,  blanket  and  rug  while  confined  therein. 

43.  Punis'  ment  for  prison  oilences  by  diminution  of  food  or  alteration  in  the  kind 
given,  is  common  to  all  prisons  we  have  visited.  Bread  and  water  diet,  under  which 
one  pound  of  bread  is  allowed  daily,  is  frequently  employed  for  a  period  of  from  one 
to  three  days  by  a  Governor's  sentence.  It  may  also  be  extended  to  twenty-eight 
days,  by  t  e  sentence  of  a  Director,  with  penal  class  diet  every  fourth  day.  Penal 
class  diet  may  likewise  be  imposed  by  a  Director  for  six  months,  and  may  immedi- 
ately succeed  twenty-eight  days'  bread  and  water.  We  cannot  but  call  attention  to 
the  very  serious  consequences  which  may  result  from  continuing  such  punishments 
too  long  or  repeating  them  too  frequently.  In  our  opinion  twenty-eight  days  confine- 
ment in  a  penal  cell,  on  bread  aud  water,  varied  with  penal  class  diet  every  fourth 
diy,  or  penal  class  diet  for  six  months,  can  hardly  fail  to  be  in  some  degree  injurious 
to  ordinary  constitutions. 

47.  With  regard  to  those  in  the  Infirmary,  we  think  that  arrangements  should  be 
made  to  facilitate  the  attendance  of  all  who  are  able  to  leave  the  sick  ward;  and,  as 
regards  those  under  punishment,  we  entertain  grave  doubts  whether  the  reason  given 
for  prohibition,  viz.,  that  the  attendance  at  Chapel  would  be  a  temporary  mitigation 
of  the  punishment  enforced,  should  be  allowed  to  outweigh  the  spiritual  advantages 
which  may  accrue  to  every  person  from  attendance  on  religious  service. 

48.  Proceeding  to  the  second  branch  of  our  inquiry,  viz. :  "  Whether  the  treason- 
felony  prisoners  have  been  subjected  to  any  exceptional  treatment  in  any  way,  or 
have  suffered  any  hardships  beyond  those  incidental  to  the  condition  of  a  prisoner 
sentenced  to  penal  servitude."  We  think  it  more  convenient  to  state,  first,  the  gene- 
ral allegation  applicable  to  some  or  all  of  the  treason-felony  prisoners,  with  such  re- 
marks upon  each  as  may  appear  to  us  necessary. 

49.  We  should  premise,  however,  that  certain  allegations  were  made  by  two  of 
the  prisoners  in  reference  to  circumstances  attending  their  transmission  from  Ire- 
land, into  which  we  were  not  in  a  position  to  inquire  fully,  but  which  we  think  of 
such  a  character  that  the  attention  of  the  proper  authorities  should  be  directed  to 
them.  It  is  alleged  that  due  consideration  was  not  shown  by  those  in  charge  of  the 
prisoners  for  the  inconveniences  incidental  to  a  sea  voyage  and  a  long  journey. 
Should  it  be  found  that  such  circumstances  occurred  as  were  detailed  to  us,  we  think 
it  important  that  due  provision  should  be  made  against  their  recurrence. 

50.  Searches,  &c. — Of  the  general  complaints  made  by  the  treason-felony  convicts, 
the  first  had  reference  to  the  practice  and  mode  of  searching,  as  well  on  their  first  re- 
ception in  prison  as  at  certain  periods  during  their  confinement.  The  rules  which 
prescribe  and  enforce  searching  are,  with  slight  variations  as  to  the  frequency  of  the 
periodical  searching,  common  to  all  convict  prisons,  and  it  did  not  appear  to  us  that 
the  treason-felony  prisoners  were  subjected,  in  this  respect,  to  any  exceptional  treat- 
ment, except  at  Pentonville,  where  some  of  them  had  to  undergo  weekly  searches,  as 
a  measure  of  precaution,  for  a  short  period  after  their  first  arrival. 

51.  It  was  stated  strongly  to  us,  by  all  the  prison  officers  whom  we  questioned  on 
the  subject,  that  the  maintenance  ef  the  practice  of  searching  is  necessary  for  the  ex- 
clusion of  prohibited  articles,  and  for  the  personal  safety  of  those  who  are  charged 
with  the  custody  of  the  prisoners.  *  *  *  We  therefore  do  not  feel  justified  in  sug- 
gesting any  change  other  than  that  the  naked  search  of  a  prisoner  should  not  take 
place  fn  the  presence  of  other  prisoners,  and  should  be  conducted  by  selected  officers. 

52.  In  the  case  of  some  of  the  treason-felony  prisoners,  complaint  was  made  that, 
when  at  Pentonville,  they  were  obliged  at  bed-time  to  put  out  their  day  clothes  and 
cell  furniture.  It  was  explained  to  us  by  the  Governor  that  this  measure,  though 
somewhat  exceptional,  was  enforced,  not  as  an  indignity,  but  as  a  precaution  against 
escape— a  course  uniformly  adopted  in  similar  cases. 

53.  Deprivation  of  Flannels  — We  find  that  on  arrival  at  Pentonville  the  flannels 
suppled  to  the  treason-felony  convicts  at  Mountjoy  Prison  were  taken  from  them. 
We  are  of  opinion  that,  as  they  arrived  in  mid-winter,  and  as  some  of  them  appear  to 
have  been  men  of  delicate  constitutions,  and  one  was  of  deformed  and  weakly  frame, 
flannels  should  have  been  given  to  them  without  waiting  for  the  intervention  of  the 
medical  officer,  in  lieu  of  those  which  they  had  worn  up  to  that  time,  and  which  it 
was  necessary  to  send  back  to  Mountjoy  Prison. 

54.  Association. — Another  general  complaint  of  the  treason-felony  convicts  was 
that,  whereas  the  offence  of  which  they  had  been  convicted  was  of  a  special  charac- 
ter, implying,  in  their  view,  no  moral  degradation,  they  had  been  associated  with 
other  prisoners  undergoing  the  sentence  of  penal  servitude  for  gross  and  heinous 
crimes. 


0' '  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life,  405 

55.  Waiving,  for  the  present,  the  question  of  principle  involved  in  this  complaint 
(to  which,  however,  we  shall  hereafter  advert),  we  proceed  to  state  the  facts. 

57.  At  Dartmoor,  none  of  the  prisoners  have  been  confined  except  Mulcahy  and 
Lennon.  Mulcahy  was  transferred  to  Dartmoor  on  the  8th  of  February,  1867,  and 
thence  to  Woking  on  the  8th  of  May,  in  the  same  year.  During  that  period,  he  was 
associated  with  the  ordinary  prisoners.  Lennon  was  transferred  to  Dartmoor  on  the 
30th  of  December,  1868,  and  is  still  there.    He,  also,  is  associated  with  other  prisoners. 

61.  At  Chatham,  except  in  the  infirmary,  the  treason-felony  prisoners  have,  as  a 
rule,  not  been  associated  with  other  convicts,  or  employed  on  the  public  works.  It 
appears,  however,  that  some  of  these  prisoners  themselves  applied  to  be  allowed  to 
labor  on  the  public  works  for  a  short  time.  J.  O'Donovan  Rossa  was,  for  some  time, 
the  only  treason-felony  convict  in  this  prison,  and  he  was  then  worked  in  association. 
On  a  subsequent  occasion — 1st  June,  1S68 — as  a  measure  of  punishment,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  labor  with  ordinary  prisoners  on  the  public  works.  After  some  days,  he  re- 
fused to  continue  at  work,  in  consequence,  as  he  alleges,  of  "the  unpleasant  life  he 
led  with  them."  For  this  he  was  reported  and  awarded  three  days'  bread-and-water 
punishment. 

63.  Occupation. — Several  complaints  were  made  by  these  prisoners  of  their  hav- 
ing been  obliged  to  perform  certain  tasks  of  work  of  a  degrading  character — e.g.,  to 
wash  the  clothes  of  other  prisoners,  to  clean  out  cells,  and  even  privies. 

64.  It  is  perfectly  true  that  those  who  were  received  at  Portland  were,  on  their 
first  arrival,  and  for  a  few  days  pending  the  receipt  of  instructions  from  the  central 
authority,  placed  in  the  wash-house,  but  they  were  subsequently,  as  stated  above, 
placed  on  the  public  works  as  a  separate  party. 

65.  *  *  *  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  in  the  Winter  of  1S66,  during  a  storm  of  un- 
usual severity,  the  rain  was  driven  in  through  the  walls  of  Hall  D.,  Portland  Prison, 
and  the  cells  occupied  by  certain  of  the  treason-felony  convicts  were  partially  flooded, 
and  their  beds  and  clothes  became  a  good  deal  wetted. 

67.  In  one  instance  only,  the  Commission  detected  portions  of  meat  unfit  for 
human  use  in  the  supply  sent  in  for  the  infirmary.  This  occurred  at  Chatham  on 
July  4th,  1870,  when  three  pieces  of  mutton  of  greenish  color,  in  parts,  and  of  very 
bad  smell,  were  pointed  out  by  the  Commission. 

69.  We  have,  therefore,  to  report  that  while  it  is  possible  that,  as  alleged  by 
seme  of  them,  the  treason-felony  convicts  have  on  some  occasions  been  served  with 
rations  more  or  less  tainted,  this  did  not  occur — nor,  indeed,  is  it  alleged  by  them- 
selves to  have  occurred — except  at  few  and  distant  intervals.  With  reference  to  the 
allegations  that  such  foreign  substances  as  a  mouse,  entrails  of  a  fowl,  or  other  refuse, 
have  found  their  way  into  the  prisoners'  diet,  we  have  to  observe  that  if  such  articles 
got  accidentally  into  the  soup  cauldrons,  even  a  few  hours  before  the  soup  was  served, 
they  would  be  boiled  down  into  a  condition  in  which  they  could  not  be  recognized. 
*  *  *  It  must  be  admitted  as  barely  possible  that,  in  transition  from  the  kitchen  to 
th&  prisoners'  cell,  by  accident  or  design,  a  foreign  object  of  small  size  might  find  its 
way  into  a  convict's  ration. 

70.  It  is,  no  doubt,  true  that  some  of  the  treason-felony  prisoners  have  been  in 
the  habit,  from  time  to  time,  of  returning  various  articles  of  diet,  and,  in  some  in- 
stances, their  entire  rations. 

72.  *  *  *  At  Portland,  the  prevailing  whiteness  of  the  stone  and  the  glare  of 
the  sun,  in  hot  weather,  appear  to  us  to  require  the  addition  of  a  good  peak  to  the 
prisoners'  cap,  with  a  shade  for  those  who  have  weak  or  tender  eyes.  In  trenching 
and  excavating  operations  in  the  open  air,  greater  facilities  for  shelter  against  severe 
weather  might  perhaps  be  provided. 

74.  Various  charges  have  been  made  which  come  under  the  head  of  medical 
treatment.  They  have  chiefly  had  reference  to  alleged  want  of  proper  attention  to 
the  prisoners'  complaints  or  calls  for  medical  aid  on  the  part  of  the  medical  officers. 

75.  We  have  already  expressed  our  opinion  on  the  general  system  of  medical 
attendance  and  for  infirmary  management  in  convict  prisons,  and  we  shall  have  occa- 
sion to  discuss  the  more  important  of  the  specific  complaints  at  a  future  stage  of  our 
report. 

JEREMIAH  O'DONOVAN  BOSSA. 

77.  This  prisoner,  described  as  the  publisher  of  the  Irish  People  newspaper,  was 
convicted  of  treason-felony,  at  Dublin,  December  13th,  1865,  and  sentenced  to  penal 
servitude  for  life.  He  was  received  into  Mountjoy  Prison  on  the  same  day,  and  thence 
transferred  to  Pentonville,  23d  December,  1865.  He  was  removed  to  Portland  on  the 
14th  of  May,  1866;  placed  on  second  probation,  at  Mihbank,  on  the  20th  of  February, 
1867,  and  removed  to  Chatham  on  the  24th  of  February,  1868.  He  handed  in  a  written 
statement,  and  was,  on  several  occasions,  examined  by  us  upon  it. 

78.  Two  special  allegations  were  brought  under  our  notice  by  this  prisoner. 
The  first  and  more  important  of  them  was  that  he  was  on  one  occasion,  at  Chatham, 


406  O^  Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life. 

kept  in  handcuffs  for  thirty-five  days,  and  that,  with  the  exception  of  his  meals, 
when  his  hands  were  brought  to  the  front,  and,  during  the  night,  when  the  handcuffs 
were  taken  off  altogether,  he  was  manacled  for  that  whole  period. 

79.  We  examined  many  witnesses  in  reference  to  this  allegation.  It  appeared 
that,  on  June  16th,  1868,  after  numerous  and  repeated  breaches  of  prison  rules,  for 
which  he  had  been  almost  continuously  under  punishment  since  the  1st  of  May, 
O'Donovan  Ros-a  committed  an  assault  on  the  Governor,  Captain  Powell,  by  throwing 
at  him,  on  the  occasion  of  his  visiting  the  punishment-cells,  in  discharge  of  his  daily 
duty,  the  contents  of  his  chamber  vessel. 

80.  For  tnis  he  was  ordered  on  the  next  morning  to  be  "handcuffed  behind" 
and  placed  under  report,  to  await  the  consideration  of  his  offence  by  the  visiting 
director.  The  director  did  not  visit  the  prison  until  the  1st  of  July.  He  then  heard 
the  case  and  awarded,  provisionally,  a  sentence  which  he  submitted  for  the  consider- 
ation of  the  Chairman.  Premising  that,  in  the  ordinary  course,  Rossa  would  be  pun- 
ished for  his  offence  by  flogging,  he  recommended  that,  in  case  that  punishment 
should  not  be  inflicted,  the  prisoner  should  undergo  twenty-eight  days'  punishment 
diet,  in  close  confinement,  and  be  placed  in  the  penal  class  for  six  months.  He  also 
recommended  that  all  movable  articles  should  be  removed  from  his  cell,  and  that  he 
should  be  kept  in  handcuffs  in  the  day-time.  This  sentence  was  confirmed  on  the  7th 
of  July,  but  without  mention  of  handcuffs.  The  period  of  twenty-eight  days'  punish- 
ment diet  did  not  take  effect  until  the  20th  of  July. 

82.  The  allegation  is  that  O'Donovan  Rossa  remained,  with  the  exception  of  nights 
and  meal  times,  with  his  hands  manacled  behind  him  from  June  17th  to  July  20th. 

83.  We  carefulfy  examined,  with  reference  to  this  allegation,  the  entries  made  at 
the  time  in  the  Governor's  journal,  the  chief  warder's  report  book,  and  the  seperate 
cell  book.  These  entries  substantially  tally,  and  are  perfectly  conclusive  on  one  point. 
They  place  beyond  all  possible  doubt  the  fact  that  O'Donovan  Rossa  had  handcuffs  on, 
either  before  or  behind,  with  the  intervals  already  reffered  to,  for  34  days. 

84.  Dr.  Burns,  the  medical  officer,  Principal  Warder  Alison,  Warders  Brown, 
Hibbert,  Giddings,  and  others  testify  to  the  fact  that  for  the  first  three  days  the  pris- 
oner was  handcuffed  with  his  hands  behind  his  back,  except  at  meal  times,  when 
they  were  placed  in  front,  and  at  night,  when  they  were  altogether  removed.  The 
sworn  evidence  of  assistant  warder  W.  Thompson,  given  on  the  1st  July  1868,  and  re- 
corded in  the  prison  books,  leaves  no  doubt  that  the  prisoner  was  handcuffed  on  the 
19th  June,  with  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

85.  As  to  whether  the  handcuffs  were  during  the  remaining  portion  of  the  34  days 
before  or  behind,  the  evidence  is  very  conflicting.  The  first  entry  in  the  separate  cell 
book  under  date  of  the  17th  of  June  is  as  follows:  "J.  O'Donovan  Rossa  to  be  placed 
in  handcuffs  behind,  by  order  of  the  Governor ;"  but  all  subsequent  entries  simply 
record  the  removal  at  night,  and  re-imposition  in  the  morning  of  handcuffs,  without 
showing  in  any  way  whether  they  were  placed  behind  or  before. 

86.  Captain  Harve)1-,  then  one  of  the  deputy  governors,  speaking  from  memory 
only,  stated  that  he  visited  Rossa's  cell  frequently  during  the  period  refered  to,  and  that 
Rossa  had  then  no  handcuffs  on.  When  shown  the  entries  in  the  prison  books,  Captain 
Harvey  declared  himself  unable  to  reconcile  them  with  his  own  recollection,  on  which 
he  was  unwilling  to  rely  in  the  face  of  such  evidence. 

87.  Dr.  Burns,  though  he  cannot  fix  the  exact  time  during  which  handcuffs  were 
worn,  states,  though  not  very  confidently,  that  the  prisoner  was  not  handcuffed  in 
either  way  for  so  long  a  time  as  is  alleged.  Alison,  too,  as  well  as  several  other 
warders  then  employed  in  various  offices  about  the  seperate  cells,  deny,  more  or  less 
positively,  that  the  handcuffs  were  continued  behind  after  the  first  three  or  four  da}Ts. 

88.  On  the  other  hand,  the  inference  to  be  drawn  from  the  evidence  of  two  of  the 
warders,  Hibbert  and  Giddings,  is  that  the  manacles  were  put  on  behind  for  a  period 
of  about  three  or  four  weeks.  These  officers  were  among  those  whose  special  duty 
it  was  to  take  off  and  put  on  the  handcuffs. 

89.  Other  evidence  of  a  less  direct  nature  has  been  laid  before  us,  both  orally  and 
otherwise;  and  we  have  not  failed  to  give  due  weight  to  whatever  might  in  any  degree 
throw  light  upon  a  transaction  which,  in  the  course  of  the  last  two  years,  has  been  the 
subject  of  so  many  contradictory  statements. 

90.  There  are  two  considerations  which  greatly  weaken,  in  our  judgment,  the 
force  of  the  evidence  against  the  allegation,  repeatedly  and  consistently  made  by 
O'Donovan  Rossa,  that  he  was  manacled  with  his  hands  behind  for  at  least  34  days. 
In  the  first  place  the  majority  of  those  who  denied  that  allegation  appeared  to  la)' 
greater  stress  on  the  strong  improbability  of  such  a  measure  having  been  enforced, 
than  upon  a  clear  recollection  that  it  was  not  enforced.  Secondly,  we  cannot  but 
notice  that  most  or  them  denied  with  equal  confidence  that  O'Donovan  Rossa  could 
have  been  manacled  at  all  for  so  long  a  period  as  34  days,  whereas  that  fact,  as  we 
hfive  already  stated,  has  been  established  by  proof  which  we  regard  as  irrefragable. 


(P  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  407 

91.  It  is  to  be  borne  in  mind,  too,  that  tbere  is  no  entry  or  other  proof  of  any 
alteration  or  modification  of  the  original  order,  and  that,  in  the  absence  of  any  such 
counter  order,  the  duty  of  the  warders  would  be  to  act  upon  the  original  one. 

92.  On  the  whole,  we  are  of  opinion  that  the  preponderance  of  testimony  is  in 
favor  of  the  supposition  that,  except  at  meal  times  when  the  handcuffs  were  placed 
in  front,  and  at  night  when  they  were  taken  off  altogether,  O'Donovan  Rossa  was 
manacled  behind  for  the  peroid  which  intervened  between  June  17th  and  July  20th. 

93.  Whether  this  continuous  use  of  handcuffs  is  to  be  regarded  as  a  measure  of 
restraint  or  one  of  punishment  has  not  been  clearly  shown  to  us.  We  are  of  opinion 
that  handcuffs  should  never  be  employed  in  any  case  as  a  measure  of  punishment,  and 
upon  a  review  of  all  the  circumstances  we  fail  to  discover  any  sufficient  justification 
for  their  employment  for  so  long  a  period  as  a  measure  of  restraint. 

94.  The  second  matter  of  complaint  brought  before  us  by  O'Donovan  Rossa  was 
as  follows : 

95.  InNovember,  1866,  a  letter  was  found  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Chapel  atPortland 
Prison,  inserted  between  the  leaves  of  a  book  of  devotion,  signed  by  him,  and  addressed 
as  follows :  "  Mrs  Mary  Moore."  In  the  corner  of  the  cover,  at  the  back  of  the  letter 
itself,  and  also  at  the  foot  of  the  last  page  in  the  inside,  were  written  the  words :  "For 
Mrs.  O'D." 

96.  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  reported  for  an  attempt  to  send  out  a  letter  surrepti- 
tiously, and  brought  before  Mr.  Clifton,  the  Governor,  on  the  morning  after  that  on 
which  the  letter  was  found.  That  charge  he  admitted,  as  well  at  that  time  before  the 
Governor  as  in  his  evidence  taken  by  us. 

101.  The  result  of  our  consideration  of  the  subject  has  been  to  satisfy  us  that  the 
Governor  acted  and  spoke  under  misapprehension  in  reference  to  this  letter;  that  the 
letter  was  bona  fide  intended  for  O'Donovan  Rossa's  wife  ;  and  that  O'Donovan  Rossa 
is  clear  from  the  imputation  of  any  endeavor  to  carry  on  a  love  intrigue. 

102.  It  is  fair  to  add  that  Mr.  Clifton  had  not,  previously  to  his  examination  by  us, 
compared  the  two  letters ;  but  we  cannot  but  express  our  regret  that  he  did  not  take 
that  course,  since  such  a  comparison,  coupled  with  the  strong  internal  evidence 
supplied  by  O'Donovan  Rossa's  letter,  could  not  have  failed  to  prevent  him  from  har- 
boring the  suspicion,  or  communicating  it  to  others. 

103.  We  examined  O'Donovan  Rossa  on  several  other  topics  of  complaint  included 
in  his  written  statement,  and  we  think  it  right  to  express  our  sense  of  the  candid  and 
straightforward  manner  in  which  his  testimony  was  given.  These  topics  related 
almost  exclusively  to  a  series  of  punishments  incurred  by  him  during  the  first  three 
years  of  his  imprisonment.  We  investigated  such  points  arising  out  of  them  as  ap- 
peared to  merit  explanation,  and  the  evidence  respecting  these  will  be  found  ap- 
pended. We  consider  it,  however,  less  necessary  to  deal  with  them  here  in  detail, 
inasmmch  as  many  of  them  have  been  anticipated  in  our  more  general  remarks;  while 
O'Donovan  Rossa  himself  did  not  disavow  most  of  the  specific  offences  against  prison 
discipline  for  which  he  was  punished.  What  he  virtually  alleged  was  that,  finding 
himself  a  marked  man  from  the  first,  and  branded  as  a  bad  character  when  he  was 
unconscious  of  deserving  it,  he  was  led  to  assume  an  independent,  not  to  say  defiant, 
attitude,  and  thus  became  involved  in  a  protracted  struggle  with  the  prison  authorities. 

CHARLES   U.    O'CONNELL. 

105.  He  has  been  for  a  considerable  time  in  the  habit  of  returning  portions  of  his 
food  unused.  His  diet  has  been  occasionally  chainged,  but  with  only  temporary 
improvement  of  his  appetite  and  general  condition. 

106.  It  is  necessary  to  state  that  Dr.  Burns  is  of  opinion  that  this  convict's  loss  of 
weight  is  due  to  his  wilful  refusal  of  food,  and  that  he  has  sometimes  been  malinger- 
ing or  shamming  since  the  occasion  of  a  visit  paid  to  him  in  the  early  part  of  last  year. 
After  having  gone  fully  into  the  evidence  given  by  the  medical  officer  in  support  of 
this  view,  we  are  compelled  to  state  that  he  (Dr.  Burns)himself  admits  that  he  did  not 
take  any  special  means  of  testing  whether  the  prisoner  was  or  was  not  malingering ;  nor 
did  he  lay  before  us  ground  sufficient,  in  our  judgment,  to  warrant  this  assumption. 

107.  In  the  preliminary  evidence  given  before  us  by  this  prisoner,  he  states  that 
he  has  been  frequently  placed  on  bread  and  water  punishment,  sometimes  for  periods 
of  70  hours.  We  find,  on  reference  to  the  prison  books,  that  he  has  in  fact  been 
setenced  on  two  occasions  to  close  confinement  on  bread  and  water  for  three  days, 
and  on  four  occasions  to  a  like  punishment  for  one  day.  Assuming  that  he  was  then 
suffering  fron  aortic  disease,  he  would,  in  our  judgment,  have  been  unfit  to  undergo 
such  discipline. 

108.  He  further  alleges  that  his  father  and  other  members  of  his  family  were 
prevented  from  communicating  with  him  or  receiving  news  of  him  for  a  period  of  four 
years,  and  that  four  out  of  five  letters  written  by  him  to  his  family  have  been  sup- 
pressed. His  father  is  in  America.  He  has  placed  before  us  certain  of  his  sup- 
pressed letters  which  he  read  in  full  to  the  Commission. 


408  0' Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

110.  While  we  in  no  way  desire  to  recommend  any  interference  with  the  prope* 
censorship  of  prisoners'  letters,  we  are  of  opinion  that  it  would  have  been  better  ta 
forward  the  letters  addressed  by  the  prisoner  to  his  nearest  relatives,  erasing  or 
removing  such  parts  as  the  prison  authorities  on  due  consideration  deemed  improper 
to  be  communicated. 

112.  In  conclusion  we  have  to  state  in  regard  to  this  prisoner  that  his  health  and 
condition  are  such  as  to  make  his  ultimate  location  and  treatment  a  question  which 
demands  the  special  attention  of  the  authorities. 

PATRICK  LENNON. 

114.  His  main  complaint  is  that  his  lungs  were  injured  by  prison  fare  atMillbank, 
and  that  his  disease  was  neglected  by  the  assistant  medical  officers  at  Millbank  and 
Dartmoor. 

116.  During  the  early  part  of  1869,  he  more  than  once  applied  to  the  Governor 
and  expressed  himself  discontented  with  his  medical  treatment.  In  September  his 
appearance  attracted  the  notice  of  the  medical  officer,  and  he  was  shortly  afterwards 
admitted  to  the  infirmary  for  a  boil.  On  the  16th  of  that  month  he  was  ordered  to  be 
weighed,  and  found  to  have  lost  19  lbs.  since  reception.  *  *  *  We  cannot  but  ex- 
press our  opinion  that  a  closer  examination  of  his  chest  would  have  been  desirable 
when  he  fell  off  so  remarkably  in  weight,  and  that  it  may  be  matter  for  consideration 
whether  he  should  not  be  removed  from  Dartmoor  before  the  coming  winter. 

PATRICK  RYAN. 

119.  He  was  examined  before  the  Commissioners  at  Woking,  July  1st,  1870,  and 
was  then  in  a  very  weakly  condition.  It  was  necessary  to  provide  him  with  a  seat, 
and  to  give  him  refreshments  several  times  during  his  examination.  He  was  suffering 
from  diarrhoea,  to  which  he  seems  to  have  been  for  a  considerable  time  constitution- 
ally liable. 

120.  His  complaints  for  the  most  part  referred  to  the  hardships  of  prison  discipline, 
diet,  and  clothing. 

122.  Ryan  complains  of  the  naked  searches  to  which  he  was  subjected  atMill- 
bank and  Woking.  His  statements  are  not  contradicted.  We  refer  to  the  general 
observations  which  we  have  elsewhere  made  on  this  mode  of  search. 

125.  Ryan  states  that  on  one  occasion  only  he  objected  to  work.  It  was  on  a 
Sunday,  when  he  was  about  to  receive  the  Holy  Communion.  He  alleges  that  he  men- 
tioned this  to  the  officer,  and  requested  that  he  should  not  be  required  to  work  at  the 
pump,  but  that  the  officer  refused,  telling  him  that  to  work  at  the  pump  "would  do 
him  more  service."  Ryan  could  not  state  the  name  of  the  officer,  and  it  was  not, 
therefore,  in  our  power  to  investigate  the  complaint.  We  do  not  doubt,  however, 
judging  from  the  respect  for  the  religious  opinions  of  the  prisoners  uniformly  mani- 
fested by  the  higher  prison  authorities,  that,  if  such  language  had  been  proved  to 
have  been  used,  the  officer  who  used  it  would  have  been  severely  punished. 

JOHN  MURPHY. 

133.  This  prisoner,  now  61  years  of  age,  was  convicted  at  Mullingar,  on  the  17th 
of  July,  1865,  and  was  sentenced  to  seven  years'  penal  servitude.  He  had  spent  five 
months  in  Mountjoy  prison  before  his  removal  to  Pentonville,  on  December  23d,  1S65. 
*    *    *    He  made  few  complaints  before  us,  and  disclaimed  any  wish  to  complain. 

134.  His  chief  anxiety  seemed  to  be  that  his  term  of  seven  years'  penal  servitude 
might  be  considered  as  dating  from  his  first  trial  (when  no  verdict  was  returned),  in 
March,  1365,  instead  of  from  his  conviction,  on  the  17-h  of  July,  1^65. 

135.  Like  other  treason-felony  convicts,  he  spoke  of  the  frequent  stripping  for 
searches  at  Pentonville,  and  of  having  to  put  his  clothes  outside  his  cell  at  night,  as 
harsh  and  unusual  precautions;  and  he  stated  that  he  had  suffered  from  the  depriva- 
tion of  flannels.  The  observations  which  we  have  already  made  on  this  subject  appty 
with  special  force  to  a  man  of  his  age  with  a  rheumatic  tendency.  The  prison 
records  show  that  he  was  supplied  with  flannels  on  January  12th,  1866,  so  that  he  was 
left  without  them  nearly  three  weeks.  He  also  found  some  fault  with  the  prison  food 
at  Woking — especially  with  the  shin-of-beef  soup,  the  cheese,  and  the  suet  pudding. 

136.  The  only  other  annoyances  which  he  mentioned  were  the  rough  langauge 
of  one  warder  and  the  vexatious  conduct  of  another  (no  longer  in  the  prison),  who 
used  to  wake  him  up  at  night,  and  whom  he  reported  four  times  to  the  Governor. 
This  annoyance,  he  stated,  was  at  last  s  opped  on  his  threatening  to  report  it  to  the 
Dire;  tor.  On  the  other  hand,  there  are  but  two  reports  against  him  on  the  prison 
books,  neither  very  serious.  We  learn  f'-om  his  case-sheet  that  his  health,  in  prison, 
has  been  indifferent,  and  that  he  has  been  frequently  under  medical  treatment  for 
rheumatic  affections. 


O*  Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life.  409 

WILLIAM  FRANCIS  BOANTREE. 

137.  This  prisoner,  aged  39,  was  convicted,  at  Dublin,  on  the  24th  of  January, 
1866,  and  was  sentenced  to  ten  years'  penal  servitude.  He  is  described  as  a  butcher 
or  mercantile  clerk,  but  he  informed  us  that  he  never  followed  the  former  occupa- 
tion. He  was  received  at  Pentonville,  from  Mountjoy,  on  the  10th  of  February,  1866; 
was  transferred  to  Portland  on  the  4th  ot  May,  1866;  was  invalided  to  Woking  on  the 
8ih  of  February,  1867,  and  still  remains  there. 

139.  His  own  representation  is,  that,  "since  his  arrest,  he  got  piles";  that  he 
was  almost  rid  of  them  when  he  was  removed  from  Moumjoy  prison  to  Pentonville; 
that,  at  Pentonville,  they  were  aggravated  by  purgatives  administered  under  the 
doctor's  orders;  that,  nevertheless,  he  was  an  able-bodied  man  when  removed  from 
Pentonville  to  Portland;  that  he  was  there  kept  working  at  the  quarries  while  bleed- 
ing profusely  from  the  effects  of  the  disease,  and  that  Dr.  Blaker,  the  medical  officer, 
grievously  mismanaged  him;  that  he  is  now,  and  has  been,  since  his  removal  to  Wok- 
ing— three  years  and  a  half  ago — a  confirmed  invalid,  "with  a  permanently  injured 
constitution;"  and  that  a  studied  disregard  of  the  conditions  necessary  for  health  has 
been  shown,  in  his  case,  by  the  prison  authorities. 

140.  *  *  *  It  is  not  disputed — indeed,  the  medical  records  prove — that  Roan- 
tree  has  suffered  piles  at  frequent  intervals  throughout  his  imprisonment.  *  *  * 
At  Portland,  he  was  three  times  under  treatment  for  this  affection— once  for  a  period 
of  168  days.  *  *  *  He  was  invalided  to  Woking,  in  consequence  of  piles,  and  has 
since  been  repeatedly  subject  to  bleeding,  sometimes  complicated  with  prolapsus. 
Dr.  Campbell  does  not  take  the  same  serious  view  of  the  case  as  the  prisoner  himself. 
*  *  *  We  have  no  means  of  judging  whether,  on  his  arrival  at  Portland,  he  was  in 
a  fit  state  for  working  in  the  quarries,  or  ought  to  have  been  admitted  earlier  into  the 
infirmary,  though  it  is  right  to  say  that  there  is  some  evidence  to  show  that  bleeding 
occurred  on  more  than  one  occasion  while  he  was  at  work.  *  *  *  During  twenty- 
four  months  of  his  imprisonment  at  Woking,  he  has  been  an  inmate  of  the  infirmary, 
performing  no  work  at  all,  but  Dr.  Campbell  positively  states  that  he  is  perfectly 
capable  of  hard  labor,  and  would  be  put  to  it  if  he  were  an  ordinary  prisoner. 

141.  It  would  be  obviously  impossible  for  us  to  review  his  medical  treatment  in 
detail — still  less  can  we  undertake  to  pronounce  an  opinion  upon  the  demeanor  or 
manner  of  the  medical  officers  and  others,  whom  he  accuses  of  unfeeling  conduct. 

142.  There  are  several  minor  grievances  alleged  by  Roantree  which  fall  within 
the  scope  of  our  remarks  on  the  general  treatment  of  the  treason-felony  convicts. 
Such  are  deprivation  of  flannels  during  the  first  four  days  at  Pentonville,  the  constant 
searching,  and  the  nightly  removal  of  body  clothing  at  the  same  prison,  and  the  rule 
of  silence,  which  he  represents  to  have  been  introduced  for  the  special  annoyance 
of  the  treason-felony  convicts  on  the  Portland  works.  *  *  *  The  penalty  in 
respect  of  diet,  to  which  he  was  sentenced  on  one  occasion,  appears,  it  is  true,  some- 
what disproportioned  to  the  offence.    *    *    * 

DENIS  DOWNING  MULCAHY. 

158.  This  prisoner  was  convicted  at  Dublin  on  the  20th  of  January,  1S66,  and  Was 
sentenced  to  10  years  penal  servitude.  Having  been  received  into  Mountjoy  Prison  on 
the  19th  of  January,  1866,  he  was  transferred  to  Pentonville  on  the  10th  of  February,  1866. 
He  was  removed  to  Portland  on  the  14th  of  May ,  1866.  On  the  15th  of  November,  1866, 
he  was  re-transferred  to  Mountjoy  Prison,  whence  he  was  sent  to  Millbank,  the  1st  of 
December,  1866.  He  was  again  sent  to  Mountjo}7  Prison  on  the  16th  of  January,  1867, 
brought  back  to  Millbank  on  the  26th  of  January,  1867,  transferred  to  Dartmoor  on  the 
8th  of  February,  1867,  and  finally  invalided  to  Woking  on  the  11th  of  May,  1867. 

159.  He  is  30  years  of  age.  Oft.  1J  in.  in  height,  and  is  stated  on  his  prison  record 
to  have  been  a  student  of  medicine.  He  weighed,  on  his  reception  at  Pentonville,  170 
lbs.,  and  at  Woking,  on  May  the  16th,  1870, 155.  He  has  thus  lost  weight  to  the  extent 
of  lb  I  lbs. 

161.  When  removed  to  Portland  he  was  returned  as  fit  for  "  hard  labor,"  and  was 
placed  to  work  at  stone-dressing.  While  so  engaged  he  was  attacked  by  blood- 
spitting,  and  we  find  it  officially  recorded  that  on  two  occasions,  the  21st  and  the  23rd  of 
July,  1866,  he  was  laboring  under  haemoptysis.  He  further  complained  of  cough,  and 
was  seen  and  prescribed  for  at  intervals  up  to  September  the  7th  b3T  Dr.  Basan,  then 
assistant  surgeon  to  the  prison.  He  was  kept  at  work  during  this  period,  and  having 
regard  to  the  nature  of  the  work  upon  which  he  was  so  employed,  and  the  occurrence 
of  blood-spitting  on  two  occasions,  we  cannot  consider  that  he  was  fit  to  be  continued 
at  hard  labor,  or  that  due  care  and  caution  were  exercised  in  his  regard. 

162.  It  is  further  alleged  that  in  Portland  prison  this  Prisoner  was  served  with 
tainted  soup,  and  that  on  one  occasion  he  found  the  entrails  of  a  fowl,  and  on  another 
w  mouse,  and  "  othe"  vermin,"  in  the  diet  served  to  him.  We  have  fully  considered 
this  charge  in  connection  with  others  of  a  similar  character. 


410  O*  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

163.  On  his  arrival  at  Dartmoor,  he  was  reported  by  the  medical  officer  as  fit  for, 
and  was  put  on,  full  labor.  He  was  placed  at  work  on  the  moor,  his  occupation  being 
that  of  trenching  and  clearing  land.  It  is  alleged  that  he  was  compelled  to  carry  slabs 
of  stone  on  his  back;  and  although  this  is  stated  by  the  Governor  to  be  contrary  to 
the  rule  and  practice  of  the  prison,  we  find  the  allegation  fully  corroborated  by  the 
evidence  of  principal  warder  Hodge. 

165.  After  about  three  weeks  at  full  labor,  this  prisoner's  health  gave  way.  The 
medical  notes  of  his  case  taken  at  this  period  by  Mr.  Ascham,  then  medical  officer  of 
the  prison,  have  been  accidentally  mislaid.  It  is  alleged  that  the  prisoner  suffered 
from  hseinorrhage  from  the  lungs.  He  appears  to  have  spent  about  half  his  time  in 
this  prison  in  hospital  in  consequence  of  the  blood-spitting,  and  on  the  representation 
of  the  medical  officer,  the  then  Governor,  Captain  Stopford,  wrote  a  report  to  the  Di- 
rectors, and  requested  "  that  he  should  be  removed,  for  the  climate  might  not  agree 
with  him."  Captain  Stopford  further  adds  that  Mulcahy,  while  at  Dartmoor,  was 
never  reported  for  misconduct,  nor  ever  punished.  He  was  invalided  to  Woking  in 
May,  1867,  the  ground  of  invaliding  being  haemoptysis. 

166.  It  is  alleged  that  during  a  period  of  10  weeks  he  was  unable  to  consume 
more  than  20  ozs.  of  solid  food  daily,  and  that  during  this  time  no  sufficient  inquiry 
was  instituted  by  the  medical  officer  as  to  the  cause  of  his  rejecting  or  not  using  his 
food.  As  the  prisoner  did  not  furnish  the  dates  in  reference  to  this  charge,  and  as  he 
finally  declined  to  submit  any  detailed  statement  to  the  Commission,  we  had  no  op- 
portunity of  going  into  the  particulars  of  this  allegation. 

167.  The  same  may  be  said  in  reference  to  the  genaral  allegations  that  he  fre- 
quently suffered  from  dyspepsia,  diarrhoea,  rheumatism,  and  neuralgia  ;  that  he  was 
subject  to  punishment  in  consequence  of  his  evidence  given  before  Messrs.  Pollock 
and  Knox,  and  that  in  the  month  of  February  of  the  current  year  he  suffered  much 
from,  keen  blasts  and  insufficient  clothing. 

BRIAN  DILLON. 

168.  Brian  Dillon,  described  as  a  law  clerk,  is  a  very  weak  and  deformed  man,  oi 
middle  age,  and  delicate  appearance. 

169.  He  was  tried  at  Cork  before  a  Special  Commission  on  the  14th  of  December, 
1865,  and  sentenced  to  10  years'  penal  servitude. 

173.  Discipline.  Dillon,  in  common  with  other  treason-felony  prisoners,  com- 
plains of  the  naked  searches  to  which  he  was  subjected  at  Pentonville,  which  he 
describes  as  having  been  of  a  very  minute  and  offensive  character.  He  also  states  as 
a  grievance,  that  when  at  Pentonville,  he  was  obliged  to  put  out  his  clothes  and  cell 
furniture  at  night.  On  both  these  subjects  we  have  already  expressed  our  opinion  in 
our  general  remarks. 

174.  Dillon  in  many  parts  of  his  statement  complains  of  the  nature  and  amount 
of  his  work.  He  stys  that  at  Pentonville,  "the  long  working  hours,  from  6  in  the 
morning  till  a  quarter  to  8  at  night,  during  which  he  sat  at  a  table  sewing,"  contrib- 
uted to  shatter  his  health.  We  must  point  out  that  in  this  statement  no  account  is 
taken  of  intermissions  for  meals  and  exercise. 

175.  He  states  that  in  the  Winter  of  1867,  when  at  Woking,  he  was  placed  to  clean 
a  heap  of  frozen  bricks  partly  covered  with  snow,  and  that  he  suffered  much  from  the 
cold. 

176.  He  states  that  when  discharged  from  hospital,  and  still  very  weak,  be  was 
employed  to  cut  bricks  in  a  narrow  wooden  shed,  that  the  weather  was  verv  cold, 
and  that  it  was  necessary  to  keep  the  bricks  soaking  in  water.  In  the  Summer  or 
1868,  he  had  to  work,  he  states,  when  suffering  from  dysentery,  under  intense  heat, 
hoisting  up  bricks  by  a  rope  and  wheel,  and  exposed  to  continual  danger  by  the  fall- 
ing of  bricks  from  the  scaffolds. 

177.  We  feel  bound  to  say  that  some  of  the  work  on  which  Dillon  appears  to  have 
been  from  time  to  time  employed,  was  of  a  nature  hardly  suitable  to  his  delicate  and 
deformed  frame.  His  weight  is  7  stone  4i  lbs.,  his  height  is  4  feet  10  inches,  and  the 
delicacy  of  his  constitution  is  clearly  shoVn  by  his  personal  appearance,  and  by  his 
frequent  admissions  to  hospital,  especially  during  the  last  two  years.  Dillon's  condi- 
tion, at  the  time  of  our  visits,  in  consequence  of  an  accidental  fall,  appeared  to  be 
such  as  to  render  him  incapable  of  any  manual  labor.  He  is  hardly  able  to  walk 
without  assistance. 

178.  Dillon  complains  that  on  his  passage  from  Ireland  much  suffering  was  unne- 
cessarilv  inflicted  upon  him  by  being  handcuffed  with  another  prisoner  affected  with 
sea  sickness  and  diarrhoea,  from  whom  he  was  not  allowed  to  be  even  temporarily 
separated.     We  have  referred  to  this  subject  in  our  general  observations. 

181.  He  further  states  that  at  Pentonville  he  was  forced  to  bathe  in  water 
rendered  foul  by  having  been  used  by  other  prisoners.    Having  inquired  into  the 


0*  Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life.  411 

facts,  we  found  this  to  be  substantially  true.  We  bave  already  commented  on 
this  practice. 

187.  We  are  bound  to  remark  that  a  man  who,  at  the  commencement  of  nis 
prison  life  was  pronounced  by  the  assistant  medical  officer  to  be  capable  of  doing 
a  little  light  work,  seems  to  have  been  long  employed  at  work  of  a  laborious 
description,  and  under  much  exposure  to  heat  and  cold,  and  this  at  a  period  when 
he  was  a  frequent  applicant  for  medical  relief.     This  occurred  in  the  Summer  of 

1868.  On  the  6th  of  August  in  that  year,  he  was,  after  several  applications,  ad- 
mitted to  hospital. 

190.  Clothing. — Dillon  states,  that  on  his  arrival  at  Pentonville  in  January, 
1866,  from  Mountjoy,  he  was  stripped  of  his  Mount  joy  clothing  and  supplied  with 
a  Pentonville  suit,  in  which  flannels,  such  as  he  had  habitually  worn,  were  not 
included.  A  reference  to  the  matter  of  complaint  is  to  be  found  in  our  general 
observations. 

193.  One  of  the  most  frequent  complaints  put  forward  by  Dillon,  as  well  as 
by  other  treason-felony  prisoners,  is  that  he  was  associated  with  ordinary  con- 
victs. We  make  this  most  important  subject  a  matter  of  observation  in  our  gen- 
eral remarks. 

195.  Letters. — Dillon  complains  that  the  G  wernor  has  erased  portions  of  lis 
letters  to  his  friends  at  Woking,  without  letting  him  know  that  he  had  do>;e  so.  We 
believe  this  is  not  unfrequently  done.    A  lette  r  written  to  Dillon,  on  the  3d  of  April, 

1869,  was  suppressed,  and  bears  the  following  indorsement,  "  suppressed  by  Director, 
the  prisoner  not  to  be  informed."  In  our  general  remarks  we  have  commented 
upon  the  practice  of  suppressing  letters,  or  parts  of  letters,  without  informing  the 
writers  of  the  fact  and  of  the  reason. 

200.  A  considerable  part  of  Dillon's  complaint  refers  to  the  treatment  of  other 
prisoners.    He  especially  dwells  on  the  case  of  treason-felony  convict  Lynch. 

201.  When  Lynch  died  an  inquest  was  held,  at  wnich  his  prison  treatment  was 
considered.  Dillon  stated  hefore  the  coroner  that  Lynch  attributed  his  illness  to 
being  deprived  of  flannels  at  Pentonville.  *  *  *  The  coroner's  jury  returned  a 
verdict  of  "  death  from  natural  causes,"  and  it  would  be  manifestly  improper  for  this 
Commission,  even  if  legally  competent,  to  re-open  the  investigation  of  this  case,  afte 
a  long  lapse  of  time  and  in  the  absence  of  the  contemporaneous  evidence  adduced  at 
the  inquest. 

208.  There  are  certain  incidents  of  treatment  which  we  have  commented  upon 
with  disapprobation  in  our  remarks  upon  the  cases  of  individual  prisoners,  but  we 
have  no  reason  to  helieve  'hit  in  any  of  these  instances  the  conduct  of  the  prison 
authorities  was  influenced  by  the  fact  that  the  prisoners  were  treason-felony  convicts. 

209.  A  further  question  was  forced  on  our  attention  in  the  course  of  our  inquiries, 
though  it  does  not  strictly  fall  within  the  letter  of  our  instructions.  It  is  the  question 
whether  prisoners  convicted  of  a  crime  so  exceptionable  in  its  nature  that  it  has  been 
thought  right  to  modify  prison  discipline  in  their  case  to  a  certain  extent,  might  not 
with  advantage  be  more  comnletely  separated  from  the  general  body  of  convicts.  We 
cannot  he  insensible  to  the  difficulty,  not  always  unattended  with  danger,  of  allowing 
any  exceptional  indulgences  to  a  few  individuals  in  the  midst  of  a  large-prison  popula- 
tion. Bearing  this  in  mind,  we  are  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the  difficulties  attendant 
upon  the  location  and  treatment  of  political  offenders,  may  perhaps  he  most  readily  and 
effectually  overcome  by  setting  apart,  from  time  to  time,  a  detached  portion  of  some 
convict  prison  for  prisoners  of  this  class,  and  we  recommend  this  subject  to  the  con= 
sideration  of  Her  Majesty's  Gove  nment. 

We  remain,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  humble  servants, 
DEVON, 

GEORGE  C.  BRODRICK, 
STEPHEN"  E.  DE  VERE, 
ROBERT  D.  LYONS, 
E.  HEADLAM  GREENHOW. 
3  Parliament  Street,  September  20, 1870. 

REPORT  ON  THE  CASE  OF  J.  O'D.  ROSS  A,  BY  DR.  LYONS. 

London,  Sppt.  10, 1870. 

While  I  fully  concur  in,  and  have  appended  my  signature  to,  the  general  Report 
of  the  Commission,  which  includes  the  case  of  this  prisoner,  I  think  it  necessary  to 
call  attention  in  a  more  especial  manner  to  certain  parts  of  it,  and  to  some  considera- 
tions of  very  grave  importance  which  appear  to  me  to  arise  thereon. 

It  is  necessary  to  premise,  that  whereas  the  assault  on  the  Governor  of  Chatham 


412  0' *  Donovan  Eossa's  Prison  Life. 

Prison  by  O'Donovan  Rossa  took  place  about  noon,  on  the  16th  of  June,  1868,  he  was 
not  manacled  until  8:50  a.m.  on  the  17th,  a  lapse  of  nearly  19  hours.  If  handcuffs  are 
a  means  of  "restraint"  and  not  of  punishment,  I  fail  to  recognize  the  propriety  of 
their  use  after  such  an  interval,  unless  called  for  by  a  renewed  act  of  violence,  which 
has  not  been  established  in  this  case. 

In  view  of  rule  15,  hereafter  cited,  which  limits  the  power  of  a  Governor  in  the 
imposition  of  manacles  to  a  period  of  72  hours  wituout  the  written  order  of  a  Direc- 
tor, I  am  of  opinion  that  it  was  beyond  the  competence  of  tne  Governor  or  Deputy- 
Governor  of  Chatham  Prison  to  keep  tie  prisoner  in  handcuffs  day  after  day,  from 
17ta  June  to  1st  July,  1868.  No  renewed  aots  of  violence  demanding  the  continuous 
employment  of  manacles  as  a  measure  of  restraint,  forwhich  purpose  only  does  their 
use  appear  to  be  onjoined  and  justified  by  the  prison  rules,  are  recorded  against  the 
prisoner  in  that  interval.  No  written  or  other  instruction  from  a  Director  to  author- 
ize the  continuous  hai  dcuffing  of  this  prisoner  within  the  days  above  named  has  been 
produced  to  the  Commission,  and  it  was  not  until  1st  July  that  the  prisoner  was  tried 
by  a  visiting  Director.  The  prisoner  asserts,  and  in  this  he  is  not  contradicted,  that 
ihe  handcuffs  were  removed  when  he  was  brought  before  the  Director  on  that  day. 
It  is  not  on  record  that  he  had  attempted  to  commit  any  act  of  violence  since  the  16th 
of  June.  It  is  even  admitted  by  the  warders  that  he  submitted  quietly  to  the  daily 
imposition  of  the  manacles.  He  was,  notwithstanding,  ordered  by  the  Director  "  to 
^e  kept  in  handcuffs  "  apparently  for  an  indefinite  period,  as  no  time  is  specified. 
Having  regard  to  the  fact  that  the  offence  for  which  he  was  tried  had  been  committed 
fifteen  days  previously,  and  that  no  new  act  of  violence  is  recorded  against  him  in  the 
interval,  as  also  to  the  consideration  that  handcuffs  are  enjoined  to  be  used  as  a  mea- 
sure of  restraint  only,  I  am  of  opinion  that  the  Director  on  this  occasion  acted  ultra 
vires  in  ordering  the  prisoner  "  to  be  kept  in  handcuffs,"  and  that  this  was  an  arbi- 
trary and  unjustifiable  exercise  of  authordy,  and  that  the  order  itself  was  defective 
inasmuch  as  it  did  not  "  specify  the  cause  thereof,  and  the  time  during  which  the 
prisoner  is  to  be  kept  in  irons."  In  the  confirmation  of  the  sentence  by  the  Chair- 
man of  Directors  on  7th  July  no  allusion  is  made  to  the  handcuffs. 

The  sentence  at  the  trial  on  the  1st  July,  ordering  amongst  other  things  that  he 
"be  kept  in  handcuffs,"  was  not  confirmed  by  the  Chairman  of  Directors  until  7th 
July,  and  it  was  not  communicated  to  the  prisoner  until  the  20th  July,  on  which  last- 
mentioned  day  only  that  part  of  the  same  sentence  of  the  1st  July  which  ordered 
28  days'  punishment  diet  and  six  months'  penal-class  diet  commenced  to  take  effect. 

I  have,  therefore,  to  report  that  in  my  opinion  both  the  Govornor  and  the  visiting 
Director  exceeded  the  power  and  authoriiy  entrusted  to  them,  by  keeping  this 
prisoner  in  handcuffs,  under  the  circumstances  above  referred  to,  from  17th  June  to 
20th  July,  and  I  further  desire  to  add  that  it  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  more  prompt 
action  was  not  taken  by  the  Directors  to  secure  a  speedy  trial  in  a  case  of  such 
gravity,  as  pending  his  trial  and  the  carrying  into  effect  of  his  sentence  the  prisoner 
was  kept  under  the  most  rigorous  restraint,  which  in  itself  constitutes  a  very  severe 
form  of  punishment,  although,  as  I  am  fully  aware,  it  is  not  technically  so  regarded  in 
prison  discipline. 

15.  "  Governor's  Poivers. — In  a  case  of  absolute  necessity  he"  (the  Governor) 
"  may  put  a  prisoner  in  irons,  not  as  a  punishment  but  only  as  a  restraint,  such  irons, 
however,  not  to  be  continued  on  an  offender  for  a  longer  period  than  72  hours  with- 
out the  written  order  of  a  director,  specifying  the  cause  thereof,  and  the  time  during 
which  the  prisoner  is  to  be  kept  in  irons,  which  order  shall  be  preserved  by  the  Gov- 
ernor as  his  warrant."  (See  rule  No.  15,  p.  10,  of  the  Rules  and  Regulations  for  the 
Government  of  the  Convict  Prisons.  Approved  by  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the 
Home  Department.    1858.) 

11.  "Director's  Powers. — In  cases  of  necessity  a  director  may,  by  order  in 
writing,  direct  any  prisoner  to  be  kept  in  irons,  such  order  to  specify  the  cause 
thereof,  and  the  time  during  which  the  prisoner  is  to  be  kept  in  irons.  The  irons  on 
ordinary  occasions  to  be  common  handcuffs."  (See  rule  11,  p.  5.  of  the  Rules  and 
Regulations  for  the  Government  of  the  Convict  Prisons.  Approved  by  the  Secretary 
of  State  for  the  Home  Department.    1858.) 

I  may  be  here  allowed  to  observe,  that  having  carefully  considered  the  Acts  of 
Parliament,  as  well  as  the  Standing  Orders  and  the  Rules  and  Regulations  for  the 
Government  of  Convict  Prisons,  supplied  for  the  information  of  the  Commission,  by 
the  Directors,  I  have  not  been  able  to  find,  and  the  Prison  Department  has  not  suc- 
ceeded in  producing  to  me  Statutory  authority  for  the  powers  exercised  by  the 
Directors,  of  ordering  manacles  to  be  imposed,  for,  apparently,  indefinite  periods, 
and  leg-irons,  U-  to  6  lbs.  weight,  for  a  period  of  six  months. 

I  desire  further  to  remark,  that  the  powers  deputed  by  the  Directors  to  Gover- 
nors, by  Standing  Order  No.  325,  of  imposing  manacles  for  a  period  of  72  hours,  are 
jargely  in  excess  of  those  granted  by  Act  of  Parliament  to  "  Gaolers"  of  county 


0^  Donovan  Rossa?  s  Prison  Life.  413 

and  other  prisons.  The  Act  2  &  3  Vict.  c.  56,  in  part  repealed,  limited  the  Gaoler's 
power,  as  to  irons,  to  24  hours.  "The  Prison  Act,  1865,"  expressly  limits  the 
powers  of  "  the  Gaoler  "  in  the  imposition  of  irons  to  24  hours  without  an  order  in 
writing  from  a  visiting  Justice,  see  28  &  29  Vict.  c.  126,  sch.  1.  No.  59). 

As  a  constitutional  principle  of  great  importance  is  here  involved,  I  beg  leave  to 
recommend  that  the  whole  question  be  referred  to  the  Law  Officers  of  the  Crown, 
with  a  view  that  if  it  should  be  found  necessary,  the  powers  to  be  entrusted  to  the 
Directors  of  Convict  Prisons  may  be  more  clearly  defined  by  Act  of  Parliament. 

I  have  very  fully  considered  all  the  charges  which  this  prisoner  has  brought  for- 
ward. He  candidly  admits  himself  that  he  has  committed  numerous  prison  offences. 
Some  of tnese  have  been  of  considerable  gravity,  and  necessarily  entailed,  in  accord- 
ance with  prison  rules,  severe  punishments,  and  the  emyloyment  of  measures  of 
restraint;  others  of  the  charges  against  him  have  been  of  a  less  important  character, 
and  I  am  not  satisfied  that  in  certain  instances,  as,  for  example,  that  in  connection 
with  coir  picking  at  Millbank,  in  July,  1867,  it  was  proper  to  punish  him  at  all. 

On  various  grounds,  and  in  different  prisons,  O'Donovan  Rossa  was  awarded  a 
very  unusual  amount  of  prison  punishment  during  the  first  three  years  of  his  im- 
prisonment. He  asserts,  and  is  substantially  borne  out  by  the  prison  records, 
that  he  has  undergone  123  days  of  bread-and-water  punishment  diet,  231  days  of 
penal  class  diet  in  a  darkened  cell,  28  days  in  the  absolutely  dark  cell,  and  that 
he  has  been,  in  all,  39  diys  in  handcuffs.  He  admits  that  he  acquired  a  bad 
prison  character,  but  he  attributes  the  attitude  of  resistance  to  prison  discipline, 
which  he  assumed,  to  the  manner  and  conduct  of  the  authorities  towards  him. 
It  is,  I  think,  but  just  to  him  to  add  that  during  a  long  period  when  he  was 
almost  constantly  undergoing  report  and  punishment,  his  applications  to  the  Gov- 
ernor and  the  Secretary  of  State  show  him  to  have  been  frequently  asking  for  books 
of  instruction.  It  is  also  worthy  of  remark  that  the  almost  continuous  employment 
of  bread-and-water  punishment  diet  in  the  case  of  O'Donovan  Rossa,  in  the  months  of 
May  and  June,  1868,  did  not  prevent  him  from  committing  the  assault,  already  referred 
to,  on  the  Governor,  on  the  16th  June  ;  that  the  handcuffing  which  followed  from  17th 
June  to  20th  July  in  punishment  cells  did  not  prevent  him,  when  liberated,  from  com- 
mitting a  further  offence,  for  which  he  was,  after  an  interval  of  two  hours  and  a 
quarter,  again  put  in  handcuffs  for  two  days,  and  that  the  infliction  of  28  days  bread- 
and-water  punishment  diet,  carried  out  from  20th  July,  did  not  prevent  him  from 
comm  tting  additional  offences,  for  which  he  was  further  reported,  and  tried  by  the 
visiting  Director  in  October,  1868.  The  marked  and  immediate  effect  of  the  few  well 
chosen  words  of  Captain  Du  Cane,  accompanied  by  a  total  remission  of  the  punish- 
ments undoubtedly  incurred  by  the  prisoner's  conduct,  show  in  well  defined  contrast 
the  influence  of  moral  agency,  as  against  the  failure  of  long-continued  measures  of 
coercion,  accompanied  with  a  total  of  more  than  40  days' bread-and-water  diet,  spread 
over  the  period  from  May  1st  to  October,  1868. 

I  am  of  opinion  that  a  more  discriminating  treatment  of  this  prisoner  by  some 
of  those  under  whose  authority  he  has  been  placed  would  have  been  in  all  probability 
attended  with  more  satisfactory  results  as  to  his  prison  history.  *  *  *  The  signal 
failure  of  all  repressive  measures  in  this  case,  furnishes  a  most  forcible  illustration  of 
the  necessity  of  separating  prisoners  of  this  class  from  ordinary  criminals.  Such  a 
conspicuous  and  successful  defiance  of  discipline  is  in  itself  a  scandal  of  prison  life, 
and  a  most  dangerous  example  to  the  other  convicts.  As  the  consciousness  of  guilt 
breaks  the  spirit  of  the  ordinary  convict  committed  for  a  crime  which  involves  moral 
turpitude,  and  all  the  more  readily  if  he  have  been,  as  sometimes  happens,  a  man  of 
education  or  position,  he  recognizes  at  once  and  submits  to  the  dictates  of  prison  dis- 
cipline. But  the  political  prisoner,  purely  such,  is,  on  the  contrary,  led  to  a  higher 
and  <jven  exaggerated  sense  of  his  position  by  confinement  in  association  with  ordi- 
nary criminals.  He  considers  that  his  sufferings  ennoble  his  acts,  and  he  rebels 
against  prison  rule. 

The  history  of  the  case  of  J.  O'Donovan  Rossa  in  itself  furnishes  a  cogent  argu- 
ment in  proof  of  the  necessity  of  dealing  otherwise  than  as  at  present  with  the  class 
of  prisoners  to  whom  he  belongs.  This  is  a  subject  to  which  the  Commission  has 
already  specially  alluded. 

ROBERT  D.  LYONS. 

MEMORANDUM.  BY  E.  HEADLAM  GREENHOW. 

I  have  signed  the  Report  on  the  treatment  of  treason-felony  convicts  in  English 
prisons,  because  I  agree  entirely  in  the  main  conclusions  set  forth  in  it. 

The  siytJi  allegation  states  thi»  I  O'Donovan  Rossa,  at  Chatham  prison,  had  his  hands 
tied  behind  his  back  for  ?5  d^ys 

After  the  fullest  possible  iu  instigation  of  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa's  case,  >^ 


4:14  CP  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life, 

came  to  the  conclusion,  as  set  forth  in  the  Report,  that  the  preponderance  of  testimony 
was  in  favor  of  this  statement  being  a  correct  one  ;  excepting  that  the  manacles  were 
always  taken  off  at  night  and  removed  from  hack  to  front  during  meal  times.  It  seems, 
however,  to  me,  only  fair  to  the  prison  authorities  to  add,  that  what  was  undoubtedly 
an  exceptional  and  irregular  proceeding  did  not  appear,  in  my  opinion,  from  the  evi- 
dence, to  have  been  intentional  on  their  part,  but  to  have  been  a  lapse  consequent  on 
the  misunderstanding  of  verbal  instructions.  The  Governor  of  the  prison,  Captain  Pow- 
ell, on  his  return  from  a  three  days'  absence,  immediately  following  the  gross  assault 
upon  himself  which  caused  0 'Donovan  Rossa  to  be  putin  handcuffs,  abstainedfrom  visit- 
ing and  taking  control  of  the  prisoner  whilst  he  was  awaiting  his  sentence  of  punishment 
from  the  Directors  for  that  offence.  Captain  Harvey ,  the  Deputy-Governor,  who  gave 
over  charge  of  the  prisoners  on  the  return  of  his  superior  officer,  did  not  consider 
that  he  was  any  longer  responsible  for  the  treatment  of  O'Donovan  Rossa;  conse- 
quently the  warders,  receiving  no  countermand  of  the  original  order,  continued  to 
apply  the  handcuffs  behind  in  accordance  with  it  during  the  time  stated.  In  truth, 
O'Donovan  Rossa's  language  and  conduct  throughout  his  prison  course,  previous  to 
his  assault  upon  Governor  Powell  had  been  so  exceptionally  violent  and  insubor- 
dinate, and  had  made  him  appear  so  intractable  and  mischievous  a  prisoner,  that 
he  warders  may  perhaps,  not  unnaturally,  have  taken  for  granted  as  intentional 
any  measure  which  would  keep  him  quiet  without  doing  him  harm.  He  had  on 
numerous  occasions  resisted  the  officers,  and  once,  after  breaking  his  cell-pot, 
had  put  the  pieces  in  a  towel,  so  as  to  make  it  into  a  weapon  of  defence,  with  which 
he  threatened  the  first  person  who  entered  his  cell.  He  had  at  different  times  broken 
his  utensils  or  furniture,  and  even  the  walls  or  door  of  his  cell,  and  for  several  weeks 
before  the  day  on  which  he  committed  the  assault  upon  Governor  Powell,  by  throw- 
ing over  him  the  contents  of  his  chamber-vessel,  he  had  been  almost  constantly  under 
report  or  punishment  for  breaches  of  prison  rules,  or  willful  damage  of  prison  prop- 
erty. On  the  other  hand,  it  is  but  justice  to  O'Donovan  Rossa  to  state  that,  subse- 
quent to  the  period  in  question,  up  to  the  time  of  the  investigation  of  his  case  by  the 
Commission,  his  conduct  had  been  good ;  and,  that  his  honesty  in  admittingto  us  most 
of  his  prison  offences,  and  his  anxiety  not  to  overstate  what  he  considered  his  prison 
grievances,  made  a  very  favorable  impression. 

John  M'Clure,  according  to  the  statement  of  the  medical  officer  at  Chatham  has 
had  only  a  single  fainting  fit,  from  which  he  recovered  almost  immediately ;  it  occur- 
red on  May  3d,  1869, fn  very  hot  weather.  He  has  been  occasionally  in  the  infirmary,  but 
has  required  very  little  medical  treatment,  though  he  has  frequently  refused  ihefood. 
tie  has  never  been  put  to  hard  labor  at  Chatham.  Mr.  Gover,  of  Millbank  Prison, 
states  that  he  took  him  off  penal  diet  on  the  same  grounds  as  Devoy.  He  is  obviously 
3y  a  man  of  weakly  constitution,  and  has  gradually  lost  weight  during  his  three  years' 
imprisonment  to  the  extent  of  17  pounds. 

In  the  matter  of  clothing  it  was  alleged  that  the  treason-felony  convicts,  on 
their  arrival  at  Pentonville,  were  deprived  of  the  flannels  they  had  brought  with 
them  from  Mountjoy  Prison  ;  and  that,  although  their  arrival  was  in  mid-winter, 
they  were  not  supplied  with  others,  to  the  great  detriment  of  their  health. 

The  facts  of  the  matter  are  these.  For  obvious  reasons  prison  rules  require 
that  the  clothing  belonging  to  one  prison  should  not  be  ratained  by  prisoners  trans- 
ferred to  another  ;  and,  therefore,  on  the  arrival  of  the  treason-felony  prisoners  at 
Pentonville  Prison,  their  Mountjoy  clothing,  which  included  flannels,  was  necessarily 
exchanged  for  Pentonville  clothing.  But  at  Pentonville  Prison,  which  is  constantly 
warmed  during  the  Winter,  and  the  temperature^kept  up  to  a  fixed  minimum,  flannels 
formed  no  part  of  the  ordinary  prison  dress,  and  were  only  supplied  on  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  medical  officer. 

In  conclusion,  I  feel  compelled  to  state  that  I  am  unable  to  concur  with  my  col- 
leagues on  the  Commission  in  the  suggestion  made  in  the  final  paragraph  of  the  Re- 
port, for  the  setting  apart,  from  time  to  time,  of  a  detached  portion  of  some  convict 
prison  for  the  reception  of  prisoners  of  the  treason-felony  class.  As  is  stated  in  the 
paragraph  itself,  no  such  question  was  comprised  in  the  subjects  referred  to  us  for  in- 
quiry and  I  cannot  but  regard  it  as  beyond  the  province  of  the  Commission  to  recom- 
mend to  the  consideration  of  Her  Majesty's  Government  a  measure  involving,  as  it  ap- 
pears to  me,  the  virtual  establishment  of  a  special  prison  for  prisoners  of  the  clas? 
of  the  treason-felony  convicts.  E.  HEADLAM  GREENHOW. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


ONE    OF  THE    COMMISSIONERS    IN    IRONS — LETTERS MR.    GLADSTONE 

AND  MR.  BRUCE MR.  M'CARTHY  DOWNING— "  AMNESTY  " BAN- 
ISHMENT  BY    "VICTORIA,    BY    THE    GRACE    OF    GOD  " A   PRIVATE 

LETTER  AND  MY  REPLY LEAVING  CHATHAM  AND  LEAVING  HALPIN 

BEHIND THE    CUBA FORBIDDEN    TO    TOUCH    IRISH    SOIL   IN    THE 

COVE    OF   CORK ARRIVAL   IN   NEW    YORK A    GENERAL    JUBILEE 

OF  WELCOME 1   MUST   BE  A    TAMMANY  MAN   OR    CEASE    TO  BE  AN 

IRISHMAN 1  REBEL  AGAINST  THIS,  AND  SACRIFICE  MY  POPULAR- 
ITY   TO     MY     INDEPENDENCE IRISH-AMERICAN     POLITICIANS    AND 

AMERICAN  POLITICS COLLECTOR  MURPHY EMIGRATION TAM- 
MANY WAR  CRIES  I  "  GRANT  AND  MURPHY,"  "  MURPHY  AND 
GRANT" 1  COMMIT  POLITICAL  SUICIDE  WITH  THE  IRISH  PEO- 
PLE BY  RUNNING  AGAINST  TWEED,  AND  KILL  MYSELF  ENTIRELY 
BY   BECOMING    A    COMMUNE    AND    JOINING   TENNIE  CLAFLIN. 

If  you  have  read  this  book  through  and  perused  the  last  chapter 
carefully,  you  will  see  I  have  been  corroborated  in  everything  I 
stated  regarding  my  prison  life.  It  was  somewhat  vexatious  to  find 
myself  flatly  contradicted  by  Doctor  Burns,  and  Warders  Goad  and 
Cranston,  and  all  the  others  I  met,  in  presence  of  the  Commission, 
but  I  had  been  a  long  time  learning  patience,  and  my  schooling  stood 
to  me  on  the  occasion.  The  Commissioners  themselves  behaved  like 
gentlemen;  but  Doctor  Greenhow  did  not  at  all  seem  to  like  the 
developments  I  was  making,  and  looked  as  if  he  wished  me  to  break 
down  in  my  case.  See  how  he  differs  with  Doctor  Lyons  on  the 
question  of  treating  political  prisoners  as  thieves,  and  tries  to  explain 
away  how  it  was  by  a  mistake  I  was  kept  so  long  in  irons.  Mr. 
Broderick  was  very  deferential  all  through  the  inquiry,  and  I  con- 
ceived a  particular  liking  tor  him.  My  four  or  five  days'  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  De  Vere  was  rendering  him  quite  familiar  to  me,  and  I  had 
much  sympathy  once  for  Doctor  Lyons,  when  I  saw  his  hands  chained 
behind  his  back,  and  saw  the  agonized  look  he  gave  when  he  asked 
me  if  my  hands  were  actually  tied  in  that  manner  for  thirty-five 
days.  He  was  after  taking  lunch ;  his  flask  lay  on  the  table,  and 
when  his  hands  were  loosed  he  poured  out  some  whiskey  in  a  tum- 
bler and  offered  it  to  me.  My  habitual  modesty  made  me  decline 
at  first,  but  he  pressed  me,  and,  as  it  was  such  a  novelty  to  touch 
anything  so  Irish  in  this  quarter,  I  made  the  introduction  of  this 


416  (/Donovan  12ossas  Prison  Life. 

friendly  enemy  of  ours.  Lord  Devon  offered  me  a  chair,  but  I  felt 
too  independent  to  sit  in  such  company,  and  continued  giving  my 
evidence  standing. 

The  labors  of  the  Commission  having  come  to  a  close,  I  returned 
to  my  companions  and  to  my  old  trade  of  stocking-mending.  We 
speculated  on  the  further  developments  that  should  necessarily  arise 
when  the  Report  was  published,  for  I  knew  I  had  floored  the  officials, 
and  the  Secretary  of  State  and  Mr.  Gladstone  should  stand  con- 
victed as  false  witnesses.  True  enough  :  it  was  on  the  very  day 
this  Commission  Report  was  published  that  the  announcement  was 
made  of  our  banishment  from  prison.  They  took  from  July  to  De- 
cember to  prepare  the  book,  during  which  time  I  kept  preparing  to 
carry  on  the  war  of  reporting  progress  to  the  public,  in  case  of  foul 
play. 

All  this  year  there  were  large  amnesty  meetings  holding  in  Ire- 
land and  England,  and  what  are  called  petitions  were  gotten  up  to 
the  Queen,  or  to  the  Queen's  manager,  Mr.  Gladstone.  The  one 
that  came  when  events  made  it  judicious  for  him  to  release  some  of 
us  was  presented  by  Mr.  M'Carthy  Downing,  the  member  for  Cork. 
The  first  to  sign  that  petition  was  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Dublin,  and 
through  him  Mr.  Gladstone  conveyed  the  news  that  we  were  to  be 
released  on  condition  of  leaving  the  country. 

Downing  Street,  16th  December,  1870. 

"  Gentlemen:  I  have  to  inform  you  that  her  Majesty's  Government  have  carefully 
considered  the  case  of  the  convicts  now  undergoing  their  sentences  for  treason  and 
treason-felony,  and  that  they  have  recommended  to  the  Crown  the  exercise  towards 
them  of  the  Royal  clemency,  so  far  as  it  is  compatible  with  the  assured  maintenance 
of  tranquility  and  order  in  the  country. 

"  They  will,  therefore,  be  discharged  upon  the  condition  of  not  remaining  in,  nor 
returning  to,  the  United  Kingdom.  W.  E.  GLADSTONE." 

A  few  days  after  this  announcement  the  Governor  of  the  prison 
informed  me  I  had  received  a  conditional  pardon.  My  sentence 
was  changed  from  perpetual  imprisonment  to  banishment  for  twenty 
years,  and  unless  I  accepted  the  conditions  the  pardon  could  not  be 
granted.  I  would  leave  the  country,  but  would  give  no  promise 
not  to  return.  If  I  did  come  back  before  the  twenty  years,  let  the 
Government  take  whatever  course  it  deemed  proper,  but  it  should 
not  be  said  I  had  made  a  promise  and  broken  it.  I  got  paper  to  give 
a  reply,  and  here  it  is : 

December  22d,  1870. 
To  the  Governor  of  Chatham  Prison : 

Sir:  I  don't  think  I  can  give  a  fairer  reply  to  the  official  document  you  read  for 
me  to-day  than  to  give  you  this  paper  which  I  withdrew  from  Mr.  McCarthy  Downing, 
and  to  tell  you  that  I  will  abide  by  its  words.    Here  they  are  : 

"  Mr.  Downing  :  Your  having  asked  me  if  I  would  leave  this  country  or  Ireland 
on  conditions  of  my  being  let  out  of  prison,  I  reply  that  I  would,  and  with  the  under- 
standing that  if  I  am  found  in  England  or  Ireland  again,  without  the  permission  of  the 
British  Government,  I  render  myself  liable  to  be  re-committed  to  prison. 

"  Very  respectfully,  JER.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

"March  22, 1869."' 

When  I  handed  this  paper  to  Mr.  Downing,  he  said  it  was  most  satisfactory.  I 
thought  Mr.  Downing  had  some  intimation  from  the  Government  to  ask  me  the 


CP  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  417 

question,  and  when  I  learned,  in  a  few  months  after,  that  he  had  not,  I  deemed  it 
becoming  to  withdraw  the  paper  from  him.  But  now  that  the  Government  offer  me 
a  conditional  release,  I  repeat  my  words  to  them. 

My  children  are  in  Ireland,  and  I  would  wish  to  see  them.  If  the  authorities  im- 
pose upon  me  the  obligation  of  going  straight  from  the  prison  to  the  ship,  I  will  do  so; 
but  if  they  can  afford  me  a  few  weeks'  citizenship  in  Ireland,  by  my  giving  an  insur- 
ance of  carrying  myself  as  privately  and  silently  as  possible,  I  will  give  them  that 
assurance.    '  Yours  respectfully,  JER.  0 'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

Director  Fagan  visited  the  prison  next  day  and  said  my  answer 
was  quite  satisfactory,  but  that  some  others  of  the  prisoners  were 
giving  a  little  trouble.  In  saying  something  about  the  Portland 
prisoners  John  O'Leary's  name  came  up.  I  thought  I  might  write 
to  him,  and  he  offered  me  paper  to  do  so;  but  on  consultation  with 
Hal.  we  decided  it  was  more  prudent  not  to  write,  lest  it  should  be 
considered  I  would  do  so  to  influence  the  Portlanders  any  way. 

My  wife  had  come  to  Chatham  on  the  first  announcement  of  our 
release.  She  wanted  to  get  me  clothes,  but  she  would  not  be  al- 
lowed to  do  anything  for  me  till  I  was  outside  the  gates.  Though 
it  was  Christmas  week,  she  could  not  get  me  out  before  the  holidays. 
She  telegraphed,  but,  getting  no  satisfactory  reply,  she  went  home 
to  Ireland. 

She  was  after  having  written  a  letter  thanking  Mr.  Gladstone  for 
the  "  amnesty,"  which  brought  her  this  answer : 

Chester,  December  24. 
Madam:  I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  I  take  your  writing  it  as  an  act  of 
much  kindness.  It  would,  I  am  sure,  have  been  most  agreeable  to  my  colleagues,  as 
well  as  to  myself,  had  it  been  possible  to  make  all  the  needful  arrangements  and  to 
effect  the  actual  release  before  the  Christmas  festival.  It  is  much  more  agreeable  to 
me  to  address  you  now  than  it  was  on  a  former  occasion,  and  you  will  not  misunder- 
stand me  when  I  ask  you  to  accept  my  wishes  for  yourself  and  for  your  husband. 

I  remain,  madam,  your  faithful  servant, 

W.  E.  GLADSTONE. 

Every  prisoner  was  asked  where  he  would  go  to,  and  I  at  first 
said  Australia.  My  wife  was  willing  to  face  any  part  of  the  world 
with  me,  and  I  was  anxious  to  evade  the  factions  of  Fenianism  in 
the  United  States.  I  knew  enough  of  things  there,  and  knew  enough 
of  my  own  nature  to  know  I  could  do  \ery  little  in  the  way  of  fol- 
lowing up  my  past  life  there  ;  but  I  was  no  longer  my  own  master. 
I  was  now  public  property,  and  public  opinion  was  to  master  me. 
While  my  wife  was  in  Chatham  she  went  to  London  every  eve- 
ning and  came  to  Chatham  every  morning.  She  met  some  of  the 
men  who  were  prominently  interested  in  the  Irish  national  move- 
ment, and  they,  one  and  all,  declaimed  against  my  going  to  the  An- 
tipodes. I  would  be  going  under  the  British  flag ;  I  would  be 
looked  upon  as  deserting  the  cause.  No;  I  should  go  to  America, 
where  we  would  be  able  to  unite  the  factions  and  do  everything  we 
liked  for  the  men  at  home. 

I  trampled  my  first  impulses  under  foot.  I  changed  my  mind — 
no,  that  isn't  correct,  I  only  changed  my  course — and  I  made  ready 
for  the  sacrifice,  and  made  known  my  intention  of  going  to  New 
York.     It  is  well  known  to  my  companions  that  we  left  prison  hav- 


418  O^  Donovan  Rosso' s  Prison  Life. 

ing  decided  to  take  no  action  in  Irish  politics  in  America  unless  we 
were  able  to  unite  all  into  one  party ;  and  how  we  were  dragged 
and  cajoled  into  a  course  that  we  decid  d  against  is  a  story  in 
itself. 

Mr.  Fagan  came  to  Chatham  on  the  5th  of  January,  1871,  and 
brought  with  him  all  the  necessary  papers.  A  saloon  passage  was 
engaged  for  us,  and  we  were  each  to  be  supplied  with  a  suit  of  clothes 
and  five  sovereigns  for  pocket  money.  I  was  the  first  he  sent  for, 
and  he  presented  the  patent  of  pardon,  asking  me  to  sign  an  accept- 
ance of  it.     I  wrote  : 

"  I  accept  this  '  patent  of  pardon.' 

"  Jer.  O'Donovan  Rossa." 

"  Here,  I  suppose  that  will  do,  Mr.  Fagan." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  I  think  there  is  something  else  wanted  ; 
say  without  mental  reservation  or  something  that  way." 

"  Would  you  please  write  out  what  you  think  proper,  and  if  I 
don't  see  anything  hard  in  it,  I  will  make  a  copy  and  sign  it." 

The  Director  wrote  as  the  prisoner  directed,  and  I  copied  and 
signed  the  document,  putting  quotation  marks  around  "  Ptaent  of 
pardon." 

I,  Jer.  O'Donovan  Kossa,  having  seen  and  heard  read  the  conditions  of  my 
release  from  prison  as  contained  in  the  "'  Patent  of  Pardon,"  accept  them  uncondi- 
ditionally  and  without  reserve. 

JER.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

He  then  gave  me  possession  of  the  parchment  with  a  round 
plaster  of  wax  about  two  pounds  weight  tied  to  it,  which  is  called 
the  seal.     It  is  a  curiosity  in  its  way. 

After  presenting  me  with  this  1  asked  Mr.  Fagan  if  he  would 
give  me  all  my  suppressed  letters.  He  could  not  do  so,  but  there 
were  some  which  were  made  up  to  be  given  me ;  the  rest  I  could 
not  have.  He  proposed  to  have  them  burned,  and,  as  I  could  not 
get  possession  of  them,  I  consented. 

Chatham  Pbison,  January  5,  '71. 

"Victoria,  by  the  grace  of  God  of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ire- 
land, Queen  Defender  of  the  Faith  and  soforth,  to  all  whom  these  presents  shall  come 
greeting,  Whereas  at  a  Special  Commission  of  Oyer  and  Terminer  and  General  Jail 
Delivery,  holden  at  Dublin  in  and  for  the  county  of  the  city  of  Dublin,  on  the  eight- 
eenth day  of  December,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord,  One  Thousand  Eight  Hundred  and 
Sixty -five,  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  late  of  Skibbereen,  in  the  county  of  Cork,  was 
in  a  l.-iwful  manner  indicted,  tried  and  found  guilty  of  certain  felonies,  and  was  duly 
sentenced  to  be  kept  in  penal  servitude  for  the  term  of  his  natural  life :  And  whereas, 
in  consideration  of  some  circumstances  humbly  represented  unto  us  on  behalf  of  the 
said  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  we  have  thought  fit  on  the  conditions  hereinafter 
contained,  and  expressed,  to  extend  our  royal  mercy  unto  the  said  Jeremiah  O'Dono- 
van Rossa.  Know  ye,  therefore,  that  on  the  conditions  hereinafter  contained  and  ex- 
pressed, we  of  our  special  grace,  certain  knowledge,  and  mere  motion  by  and  with 
the  advice  and  consent  of  our  right  trusty  and  well-beloved  cousin  and  councillor, 
John  Poyntz,  Earl  Spencer,  K.G.,  our  Lieutenant-General  and  General-Governor 
of  that  part  of  our  said  United  Kingdom  called  Ireland,  and  according  to  the  tenor 
and  effect  of  our  letter  under  our  royal  signature,  bearing  date  nt  our  court,  at  St. 
James's,  the  thirty-firs!  day  of  December,  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  our  reign,  and 
now  enrolled  in  the  Record  and  Writ  Office  of  our  High  Court  of  Chancery  in  Ireland 


O'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  419 

aforesaid,  have  pard  ncd,  remit'ed,  and  released;  nnd  by  these  presents  we  do  par- 
don, remit,  and  release  the  said  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa,  or  by  whatever  other 
names  or  additions  of  name,  office,  art,  mystery,  or  place,  the  said  Jeremiah  O'Dono- 
van  Rossa  is  known,  called  or  named,  or  was  lately  known,  called,  or  named,  the  felo- 
nies of  which  he  stands  convicted  as  aforesaid  and  all  and  singular  convictions  and 
attainders  thereupon,  and  save  as  hereinafter  mentioned  all  pains,  penalties,  and  for- 
feitures thereby  by  him  incurred  as  aforesaid,  or  incident  or  consequent  upon  the 
said  felonies  or  any  of  them,  or  the  commission  thereof,  or  the  judgment  had  there- 
upon as  aforesaid;  and  our  firm  peace  to  him,  the  said  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa, 
for    the  same.      We,  on  the   conditions  hereinafter  contained  and  expressed,  do 
give   &v.<\   grant  by  there  preset  ts,  forbidd  ng  that  the  sa4d  Jeremiah  O'Donovan 
R>  sa,    by    the    ju-tices,    sheriffs,    exchea'.ois,     b:  hffs,    coroners,    or    other    the 
oiHcers     or     minister     of     us,    our     heirs     and     successors     on     the     occasion 
aforesaid,    may    be    molested,    disturbed,    or   in    any   manner    aggrieved    for   the 
same,  so  that  on  the   conditions  hereinafter  contained  and  expressed,  he,  the  said 
Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa  may  stand  right  in  open  court,  if  any  person  against  him 
should  be  willing  to  speak  on  the  occasion  aforesaid.    And  our  further  will  is,  and  by 
these  presents  for  us,  our  heirs  and  successors,   we  do  grant  that  these,  our  letters 
patent,  or  the  enrolment  thereof,  shall  be  in  all  things  firm,  good,  valid,  sufficient, 
and  effectual  in  the  law,  and  shall  be  as  well  to  the  said  justices  and  sheriffs,  eschea- 
tors,  bailiffs,  and  coroners,  as  to  all  others  1he  officers  and  successors,  a  sufficient 
warrant  and  discharge  in  that  behalf.    Provided  always,  and  it  is  hereby  declared, 
that  these  our  letters  patent,  and  the  pardon,  remission,  and  release  hereby  granted, 
are  expressly  subject  to  the  several  conditions  following — that  is  to  say,  that  the-e, 
©ur  letters  patent,  be  enrolled  in  the  Record  and  Writ  office  of  our  High  Court  of 
Chancery  in  Ireland  aforesaid,  within  the  space  of  six  calendar  months  next  ensuing 
the  date  of  these  presents.    And,  further,  that  the  said  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa 
shall  forthwith  depart  oat  of  the    United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  and 
shall  remain  out  of  the  said  United  Kingdom  for  the  space  of  twenty  years  from  the  date 
of  these  presents.    And,  further,  that  the  said  Jeremiah  O'Donovan  Rossa  shall  not 
during  the  said  space  of  twenty  years,  exercise,  or  attempt,  or  claim  to  exercise 
within  the  said  United  Kingdom  any  capacity,  right,  access,  or  privilege  of  which 
he  was,  or  lias  been,  deprived,  or  which  was  or  has  been  lost,  forfeited,  extinguished, 
or  suspended  by  the  felonies  aforesaid,  or  any  of  them,  or  by  reason  of  his  having 
committed  the  same  felonies,  or  any  of  them,  or  been  convicted  of,  or  adjudged  guilty 
of,  or  sentenced  or  attained  for  such  felonies,  or  any  of  them. 

"  In  witness  whereof  we  have  caused  these  our  letters  to  be  made  patent. 
Witness,  John  Poyntz,  Earl  Spencer,  our  Lietenant-General  and  (reneral  Governor  of 
Ireland,  at  Dublin,  the  third  day  of  January,  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  our  reign. 

"  Enrolled  in  the  Record  and  Writ  Office  of  her  Majesty's  High  Court  of  Chancery 
in  Ireland,  on  the  third  day  of  January,  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and  seventy- 
one.  "  M.  J.  Brady,  A.  C.  R.  &  W. 
"Ralph  Cusack,  Clerk  of  the  Crown  and  Hanaper." 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  I  have  a  sealed  letter  for  you  which  I  have 
never  read,  nor  do  I  know  what  it  contains.  I  am  instructed  to 
give  it  to  you  after  you  receive  your  pardon,  and  here  it  is." 

London,  Dec.  20th,  1870. 

Mr.  O'Donovan  Rossa:  I  have  for  sometime  past  looked  forward  to  congratu- 
lating you  on  your  release,  and  exuressing  my  sincere  good  wishes  for  your  future 
career.  I  do  not  feel  t^at  I  have  the  right,  nor  would  it  become  me  to  offer  you  any 
advice,  and  especially  of  a  poliiical  nature.  Though  you  and  I  are  nearly  of  the  same 
age,  our  experiences  of  life  and  views  of  life  are  very  different ;  nor  would  it  be  reason- 
able to  expect  that  you  should  regard  Fenianism  in  the  same  light  that  I  do.  At  the 
same  time  I  would  venture  to  implore  you,  before  connecting  yourself  with  it  again, 
either  in  the  United  States  or  elsewhere,  to  take  counsel  with  the  wisest  and  most 
disinterested  friends  that  you  possess,  with  your  good  wife,  and,  let  me  add — with 
your  own  best  feelings  and  highest  aspirations. 

I  will  say  no  more,  except  that  I  shall  always  hear  of  you  with  friendly  interest. 

Indeed  I  should  not  have  said  what  I  have  said  had  I  not  formed  a  conviction 
which  I  have  freely  avowed,  that  you  are  worthy  of  a  happier  destiny  than  has  yet 
been  yours. 

I  rely  upon  your  honor  to  regard  this  letter  as  confidential,  and  remain,  though 
little  known  to  you,  Your  friend,  . 


420  0  [Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life. 

Chatham  Prison,  January  5, 1871. 

Sir  :  It  is  a  poor  thing  to  thank  you  in  words,  and  I  have  no  other  way  to  thank 
you  for  your  kind  letter,  and  your  very  kind  wishes  for  my  welfare.  Our  experiences 
in  life  are,  as  you  say,  different,  yet  if  we  could  speak  our  minds  to  each  other  our 
views  regarding  "  Fenianism''  may  not  be  so  far  apart  as  you  think.  I  would  expect 
your  enlightened  mind  to  regard  me  as  it  would  the  inhabitant  of  any  other  conquered 
country,  and  I  would  allow  you  the  right  of  the  conqueror  to  maintain  his  conquest. 
But  we  cannot  talk,  and  my  time  or  opportunity  does  not  permit  me  to  write,  even  if 
my  acquaintance  could  warrant  my  speaking  freely  and  candidly  to  you.  I  should  wish 
to  see  Irishmen  and  Englishmen  friends  as  well  as  neighbors.  Now-a-days,  when  mighty 
armies  and  weapons  of  destruction  are  before  our  eyes,  and  the  possibility  of  their 
being  used  in  the  interest  of  tyranny  so  patent,  I  would  much  rather  see,  between  the 
poeple  of  these  Islands,  a  strong  bond  of  Union  and  Brotherhood,  such  as  would  repel 
any  thought  of  aggression,  than  to  see  the  ever-recurring  efforts  of  ^.he  one  to  bind 
down  the  other.  Would  English  statesmen  turn  their  talents  to  our  union,  and  not 
to  our  division,  it  would  lighten  my  exile. 

I  do  not  know  how  winds  will  drift  me,  but  this  you  may  he  sure  of,  that  no 
course  of  life  will  ever  find  mo  fostering  ill-will  between  Englishmen  and  Irishmen, 
and  if  you,  as  a  writer,  make  a  similar  endeavor  to  dissipate  those  prejudices  which 
exist  and  seem  to  be  by  some  influence  cultivated  between  the  two  people,  1  will  ever 
remember  you  with  kindness. 

You  possibly  have  one  time  or  another  in  your  life  experienced  t^at  pain  of 
thought  resulting  from  being  led  by  your  opinions — by  your  consciousness  of  recti- 
tude to  express  yourself  and  to  act  in  a  manner  that  would  not  be  entirely  agreeable 
to  some  one  you  respected.  It  is  such  a  feeling  I  experience  now,  in  the  desire  to 
respect  you,  and  to  be  consistent  with  myself. 

You  do  me  overmuch  honor  in  your  opinion  of  me.  Some  fortune  (perhaps  a  mis- 
fortune) has  followed  me  through  life  in  making  people  see  more  in  me  than  I  feel  or 
see  myself.  You  are  the  agent  at  present,  and  if  I  could  speak  imperatively  to  you, 
I  would  say,  you  must  correct  yourself  on  this  head. 

I  will,  as  you  desire,  consider  yTour  letter  a  private  one. 

There  is  one  matter  of  concern  to  me,  which  I  will  communicate  to  you;  it  ifl  this : 
I  am  leaving  prison,  and — what  I  do  not  like— I  am  leaving  behind  me,  among  the  sol- 
diers and  Manchester  men,  some  whom  I  have  influenced  into  the  course  which  led  to 
their  imprisonment,  and  this  cannot  tend  towards  my  rest.  If  I  had  time  in  the 
country,  I  intended  to  ask  the  Secretary  of  State  if  there  were  any  conditions  of 
release  for  these  men?  I  thought  the  Government  might  altogether  close  this  open 
sore  of  political  prisoners  in  England.  Could  you  do  anything  in  the  matter?  If  you 
could,  I  would  ask  you  and  request  you  to  send  me  a  line  to  meet  the  Cunard  steamer 
in  Queenstown  on  Sunday  next. 

I  remain,  sir,  yours  very  respectfully, 
To (Signed)  JER.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA. 

P.  S. — A  message  has  reached  me  from  one  of  those  Manchester  prisoners,  and 
here  are  the  exact  words :  "  They  have  me  nearly  dead.  I  am  now  doing  twenty 
days'  bread  and  water,  and  have  no  bed  at  night.  My  name  is  Dan  Reddin ;  I  am  one 
of  the  Manchester  men." 

This  is  enough.  The  man  has  been  repeatedly  under  punishment.  I  am  expected 
to  make  his  case  known  when  I  get  out  of  prison — and  I  tell  you  honestly,  I  have  no 
desire  to  rush  into  print.  I  intend  to  speak  to  Mr.  Fagan  to-day,  with  a  view  to  his 
relaxing  the  discipline  in  this  man's  case.  Perhaps  the  most  becoming  way  for  me 
to  do  it  is  to  lay  this  letter  before  him.  J.  O'D. 

The  Daniel  Reddin  referred  to  here  is  the  young  man  who  be- 
came helplessly  paralyzed  in  prison,  and  who  tried  to  get  an  indict- 
ment against  Dr.  Burns  and  other  officials  on  account  of  the  ill- 
treatment  he  received  from  them. 

The  snow  was  thick  on  the  ground  at  the  time  of  my  release,  in 
January,  1871,  and  he  was  then  starving  on  bread  and  water,  with- 
out a  bed  at  night. 

My  correspondent  did  not  write  to  me  to  the  Cove  of  Cork,  but 
when  I  arrived  in  America  I  received  a  letter  from  him  saying  he  was 
out  of  London  when  mine  came.     In  this  he  spoke  very  kindly  and 


O' 'Donovan  Rosso? 8  Prison  Life.  421 

promisingly  ;  I  would  let  you  read  it  but  that  it  might  betray  who 
he  was,  and  he  "  relied  upon  my  honor  to  hold  it  as  confidential." 

When  I  came  to  New  York  I  was  forced  into  public  politics,  as 
I  will  afterwards  explain ;  and  as  this  was  taking  the  course  my 
correspondent  would  dissuade  me  from,  I  felt  delicate  about  reply- 
ing. I  could  not  feel  it  manly  or  gentlemanly  to  foilow  up  the  fa- 
vors I  expected  from  him  in  the  release  of  the  soldier  prisoners,  and 
as  this  was  the  piincipal  subject  of  my  last  letter,  I  did  not  reply  to 
it.  Could  1  have  foreseen  the  little  good  I  could  do  here  for  the 
cause  of  Irish  independence  I  would  have  taken  a  contrary  course. 
I  would  rather  look  back  now  to  the  release  of  Johnny  O'Brien  or 
Sergeant  M'Carthy  three  years  ago,  than  to  anything  I  have  done, 
or  seen  done,  by  Irishmen  in  America  to  forward  the  cause  of  Irish 
revolution.  This  may  give  consolation  to  the  enemies  of  Ireland, 
but  if  it  shame  her  so-called  friends  into  more  honest  and  energetic 
action  for  her  freedom,  I  don't  begrudge  the  others  their  little 
pleasure. 

Halpin  refused  to  sign  any  conditions.  He  intended  prosecuting 
the  perjurers  who  swore  against  him  as  soon  as  ever  he  got  out  of 
prison,  and  signing  this  paper  would  be  signing  away  his  right  to 
do  so. 

Everything  having  been  made  ready  for  our  departure  from  Chat- 
ham, we  took  a  last  fond  look  at  our  cells  and  descended  to  the  court- 
yard. We  stood  and  made  a  request  that  Halpin  be  brought  down 
to  us  to  bid  him  adieu.  It  was  granted,  and  it  was  as  painful  a 
parting  as  you  could  imagine  to  see  us  in  our  broadcloth  bidding 
adieu  in  his  convict  grey  to  him  of  whom  we  were  all  so  fond. 

We  took  our  seats  in  two  coaches,  two  warders  seating  them- 
selves with  us,  the  Deputy-Governor  entered  a  gig,  some  one  shouted 
out  "All  right,"  the  heavy  prison-gates  swung  on  their  hinges,  and 
in  a  moment  we  were  outside  them ;  but  though  outside  and  on 
our  way  to  freedom,  yet  were  we  prisoners  still.  In  that  land  that 
affords  a  refuge  to  all  the  political  prisoners  of  the  world  there  was 
no  resting-place  for  us — no  freedom  until  we  were  placed  beyond  its 
boundaries. 

"The  foot  of  slave  thy  heather  never  stained." 

We  had  the  accursed  brand  of  English  slavery  upon  us,  and  our 
tread  should  not  pollute  the  soil. 

We  were  driven  to  the  railway  station  in  Chatham,  and,  having 
been  conducted  into  a  carriage,  the  Deputy-Governor  entered  the 
next  compartment  to  us  and  the  train  started.  Arriving  in  London, 
we  were  placed  in  coaches,  and  driven  to  the  station  from  whence  the 
train  starts  for  Liverpool.  The  Deputy-Governor  told  us  there  was 
time  to  have  refreshments,  and  if  we  liked  we  could  have  some. 
We  consented  and  were  conducted  into  a  private  room  in  the  build- 
ing ;  here  there  was  a  table  already  prepared  for  us.  We  had  sand- 
wiches, wine  and  ale,  and  could  have  anvthinsr  we  liked.     We  ate 


422  0^  Donovan  Rossds  Prison  Life, 

and  drank,  and  thanked  the  Deputy,  who,  now  that  he  wasn't  a 
jailer,  was  a  very  amiable  gentleman.  He  made  himself  as  agree- 
able as  possible,  and  telegraphed  to  have  everything  ready  before 
him  as  he  went  along.  Detectives  were  here  and  there  and  every- 
where that  we  made  a  stop  or  changed  cars  or  coaches.  It  was 
deemed  necessary  to  observe  the  greatest  possible  secrecy  regarding 
our  removal,  lest  any  troublesome  demonstrations  should  spring  up 
on  the  way,  and  our  escort  did  his  best  to  hide  us. 

Having  taken  such  a  lunch  as  we  did  not  enjoy  for  the  past  five 
years  and  four  months,  we,  with  detectives  behind  and  detectives 
before,  were  stealthily  conducted  to  the  train,  and  after  a  ride  of 
four  or  five  hours  found  ourselves  in  Liverpool. 

There  was  a  crowd  at  the  station  there,  and  Mulleda,  who  was 
well  known  by  the  Irishmen  of  Liverpool,  had  lots  of  friends  around 
him.  Coaches  were  drawn  up  to  receive  us,  and  as  I  stepped  out 
on  the  platform  one  friend  kindly  gave  me  his  arm,  and  his  kind- 
ness was  imitated  by  another  who  saw  I  had  another  arm  to  spare. 
I  <.  nought  they  were  some  of  our  friends,  and  we  had  a  great  laugh 
afterwards  when  we  learned  they  were  detectives  who  thus  acted  so 
politely  towards  every  one  of  us.  Another  hour's  driving  through 
Liverpool  brought  us  to  the  river-side,  where  there  was  a  tug- 
boat in  waiting  to  convey  us  on  board  the  steamship  Cuba.  She 
lay  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  ready  to  sail  next  morning.  It  was 
about  ten  o'clock  when  we  got  on  board,  and  the  Deputy  ordered 
a  supper.  We  had  a  grand  time  of  it.  Jailers  and  convicts 
and  snip's  officers  fraternized  over  the  champagne.  We  tried  to 
make  ourselves  as  genial  as  possible.  We  toasted  the  Deputy's 
health  and  he  toasted  ours ;  the  doctor  of  the  ship  made  a  speech ; 
some  of  the  prisoners,  being  called  upon,  became  humorous  and 
gave  excuses  for  short  orations  by  saying  they  were  a  good  while 
out  of  practice  under  the  silent  system.  Altogether  we  had  a  good 
night  of  it,  though  we  were  still  prisoners.  The  doctor  went  so  far 
as  to  boast  of  being  an  Irishman,  though  he  wasn't  a  Fenian  or  a 
Catholic,  and  when  he  heard  our  opinions  as  to  how  little  we  thought 
the  name  ''Fenian"  or  "Catholic"  or  "Protestant"  should  influ- 
ence a  man  in  the  discharge  of  a  duty  towards  his  native  land,  and 
other  opinions  of  ours  also,  he  appeared  pleased  that  there  seemed 
so  little  difference  between  us.  It  was  a  regular  straight-out  liberty, 
equality  and  fraternity  party.  There  were  the  head  jailer  and  his 
deputy  warders  and  their  prisoners  sitting  at  the  same  table  with 
the  ship's  officers,  all  toasting  each  other's  health,  in  utter  disregard 
of  those  distinctions  of  caste  so  necessary  to  "  discipline,"  and  dis- 
cipline herself  outraged  in  treating  us  as  gentlemen  while  holding 
us  as  felons. 

We  retired  to  our  berths  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
the  two  warders  did  prison  duty  over  us  by  remaining  up  and  keep- 
ing guard  outside  our  doors. 

About  nine  o'clock,  just  before  the  ship  sailed,  the  Deputy  asked 


0  ' }  Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life,  423 

us  into  his  room,  and  laying  before  each  of  ns  five  sovereigns,  said  he 
had  instructions  to  give  us  so  much  for  pocket  money.  As  we  had 
decided  to  receive  everything  given  us,  under  the  circumstances 
that  our  friends  were  not  allowed  to  give  us  anything,  we  took  the 
English  gold,  and  shaking  hands  with  the  officer  as  a  form  of  bid- 
ding him  good-bye,  he  went  on  board  the  tug-boat,  and  the  Cuba 
steamed  down  the  Mersey.  But  though  the  Deputy  left  us,  his  two 
deputies  did  not.  We  were  prisoners  still,  and  they  had  charge  of 
us  until  we  started  from  the  Cove  of  Cork,  where  the  ship  was  to 
take  up  the  mails. 

An  hour  after  starting  from  Liverpool,  I  made  the  discovery 
that  we  had  a  stow-away  on  board.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  he 
knowing  that  I  was  on  the  ship,  sought  me  out  and  gave  me  his 
confidence.  He  represented  himself  as  a  correspondent  of  the  New 
York  World,  he  had  been  "  interviewing"  me  all  the  mornino;  but 
could  not  draw  me  out,  and  recognizing  the  vast  importance  of  hav- 
ing my  opinion  on  the  questions  of  the  day  for  the  American  world, 
he  had  hid  himself  on  board,  as  he  could  not  otherwise  secure  a  pas- 
sage from  Liverpool  to  Cork.  I  thanked  him  for  the  compliment 
paid  me,  but  begged  to  be  excused  from  giving  my  opinions,  as  I 
had  been  shut  in  from  the  world  and  in  utter  darkness  regarding  all 
the  affairs  passing  in  it.  Yet  he  would  not  be  put  off,  he  should 
have  something  from  me  for  his  pains,  and  he  went  to  the  trouble 
of  telling  me  of  the  Irish  Tenant  Right  bill  and  the  Irish  Church  Dis- 
establishment bill,  which  Mr.  Gladstone  had  lately  passed,  asking 
my  opinion  on  them.  I  told  him  I  had  not  faith  enough  in  Mr. 
Gladstone  to  pass  any  bill  that  would  give  the  Irish  tenant  any 
right  against  the  right  of  the  landlord  to  eject  him  and  rackrent 
him  whenever  he  thought  proper,  and  in  this  I  was  not  far  astray, 
for  it  is  now  seen  that  Gladstone's  Tenant  Right  bill  is  only  a  second 
edition  of  Deasy's  bill,  or  any  of  the  other  sham  bills  that  have  been 
passed  to  gull  the  people. 

As  to  the  Church  Disestablishment  bill,  I  reasoned  thus  when  my 
interviewer  asked  me  if  I  thought  it  should  not  quell  agitation  ano 
make  the  Irish  contented.  A  robber  seizes  your  house  and  proper, 
expels  you,  and  in  addition  to  this  he  imposes  upon  you  the  duty  < 
maintaining  one  of  his  bastard  children.  His  neighbors  are  wit 
nesses  of  this  injustice,  and  to  look  well  in  their  eyes  he  tells  you 
he  will  not  tax  you  with  the  support  of  his  child  any  more ;  that 
that  much  of  the  injustice  is  taken  off  your  shoulders.  Are  you 
then  to  forgive  him  all  the  other  injustice  done  you  and  to  look  upon 
him  as  a  benefactor  ?  It  was  in  such  wise  that  I  spoke  to  this  gen- 
tleman. I  was  a  little  on  my  guard,  as  I  did  not  know  but  he  may  be 
an  English  spy  sent  to  sound  us,  but  probably  I  was  mistaken  here, 
as  I  aftewards  saw  in  the  New  York  World  something  purporting 
to  be  an  account  of  what  passed  between  us.  I  got  sea-sick  and 
went  to  my  berth,  but  this  did  not  prevent  him  from  trying  to  prose- 
cute his  mission.      He  came  into  my  room,  but  I  got  such  a  vio- 


4:24  O' 'Donovan  Rosso' s  Prison  Life. 

lent  attack  of  retching  whenever  he  asked  me  a  question  as  induced 
him  to  have  compassion  on  me  and  go  away.  On  Sunday  morning 
as  we  were  approaching  the  Cove  of  Cork,  he  made  for  me  again 
and  I  made  the  best  of  my  way  to  evade  him. 

Ireland  once  more.  There  she  lay  before  us,  with  her  hopes  and 
the  high  hopes  of  our  youth  blasted.  As  we  drew  near  to  land  the 
jailers  drew  nearer  to  us,  and  we  were  reminded  we  were  not  allowed 
to  go  on  shore. 

Twelve  years  before  I  lay  in  the  County  Jail  of  Cork,  and  this 
same  harbor  received  the  Neapolitan  exiles  who  had  broken  loose 
from  their  jailers  while  at  sea.  Mr.  Gladstone  championed  them: 
he  and  all  the  English  people  were  jubilant  over  their  escape  and 
heartily  welcomed  their  arrival  in  Ireland.  Now  Mr.  Gladstone  is 
Prime  Minister  of  England,  and  not  alone  has  he  countenanced  in 
his  prisons  the  very  treatment  which  he  vehemently  condemned  in 
the  Neapolitan  ones,  but  when  we  approach  our  native  land  on  our 
way  to  banishment  he  prohibits  us  from  setting  foot  upon  its  soil. 

As  soon  as  we  cast  anchor,  the  necessary  relay  of  police  and 
detectives  came  on  board  to  keep  us  to  our  quarters  during  the  five 
or  six  hours  we  stayed  in  the  harbor.  The  Cove  pilot  informed  me 
that  my  wife  had  arrived  in  town  the  evening  before,  and  I  enjoyed 
the  prospect  of  having  her  a  fellow-passenger  to  America.  Small 
boats  came  from  shore  and  in  them  I  recognized  two  of  my  Portland 
companions,  Pat.  Barry  and  Jerry  O'Donovan,  with  several  others 
of  my  old-country  friends.  None  of  them  would  be  allowed  on 
board,  but  as  the  mountain  would  not  come  to  Mahomet,  Mahomet 
went  to  the  mountain,  and  seeing  Davey  Riordan  and  a  few  others 
begging  for  leave,  and  refused,  to  be  allowed  shake  hands  with  me, 
I  jumped  over  the  side  of  the  ship  into  their  little  boat.  You'd  think 
this  was  the  signal  for  an  outbreak,  there  arose  such  a  commotion. 
The  detectives  ran  here,  the  jailers  ran  there,  every  one  ran  some- 
where, but  after  having  a  few  words  and  a  shake  hands  with  my 
friends  around  I  climbed  up  the  side  of  ths  ship  and  delivered 
myself  quietly  into  the  hands  of  my  keepers. 

During  the  day,  four  or  five  steamers  from  "  Cork's  own  town" 
crowded  with  "  God's  own  people"  came  down  the  river  and  kept 
hovering  around  our  ship.  The  cheering  was  immense,  and  the  en- 
thusiasm showed  us  the  old  cause  was  still  uppermost  in  the  hearts 
of  the  masses  of  our  people. 

A  committee  presented  us  with  clothes  and  money :  they  had  an 
address  for  us  also,  but  one  of  the  conditions  of  allowing  them  on 
board  was  that  this  should  not  be  presented. 

My  wife  and  youngest  child  met  me  here,  and  accompanied  me 
to  America. 

Approaching  New  York  a  pilot  was  taken,  and  the  newspapers 
he  brought  showed  us  we  would  be  placed  in  a  very  delicate  situ- 
ation arriving  in  the  New  World.  The  Irish  people  were  heartily 
joyous  at  our  release,  and  the  politicians  of  the  city  were.,  as  a 


O*  Donovan  Jtossa?s  Prison  Life.  425 

matter  of  course,  at  the  head  of  the  people.  As  our  ship  neared 
land,  torches  blazed  and  cannon  boomed.  "  Ship  ahoy."  "  Govern- 
ment cutter."  The  ladder  was  let  down :  a  portly  brown-haired 
gentleman  stepped  on  board,  and  I  was  introduced  to  the  Collector  of 
the  Port  of  New  York.  On  the  part  of  the  Government  of  the  United 
States  he  tendered  me  and  my  companions  the  welcome  and  the 
hospitality  of  free  America.  The  Government  steamer  was  alongside 
to  receive  us,  and  apartments  for  our  accommodation  had  been  en- 
gaged at  the  Astor  House. 

I  thanked  him  j  but  as  I  was  only  one  of  five,  I  desired  the  Col- 
lector to  see  the  others  with  me.  During  our  interview  some  of  the 
City  Fathers  had  come  on  board  from  another  steamer,  and  having 
met  some  of  the  other  prisoners,  were  tendering  us  a  welcome  and 
hospitality  on  behalf  of  the  great  City  of  New  York.  The  city 
steamer  was  alongside,  and  apartments  had  been  engaged  for  us  at 
the  Metropolitan.  I  saw  immediately  that  the  question  of  our  re- 
ception had  grown  into  a  party  fight.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to 
get  a  word  with  one  of  my  companions  without  half  a  dozen  sur- 
rounding us,  half  of  whom  would  be  at  one  side  and  half  at  the  other 
side,  bawling  out,  "  Rossa,  go  this  way."    "  Rossa,  go  that  way." 

The  Collector  asking  if  he  could  have  a  few  private  words  with 
me,  I  went  with  him  to  the  Captain's  room,  and  he  spoke  to  me 
somewhat  in  this  manner: 

"Mr.  O'Donovan,  I  am  an  Irishman  myself;  I  am  not  without 
some  sympathy  for  your  cause,  and  I  wish  to  see  our  people  respected 
in  their  new  home.  I  am  pained  at  what  you  have  witnessed  here 
to-night.  You  have  been  years  in  prison,  you  are  banished  from 
your  native  land,  you  turn  your  face  here,  the  National  Government 
come  to  receive  you,  and  a  faction  that  has  been  for  years  degrading 
the  character  of  our  race  steps  in  to  create  disturbance.  The  Irish 
people  are  glad  of  your  release ;  they  are  honest,  but  they  have  got 
into  the  hands  of  a  party  of  thieves  and  swindlers,  who  on  every 
important  occasion  strive  to  use  them  against  the  interests  of  the 
country,  and,  as  you  see  here  to-night,  to  our  common  disgrace. 
Tammany  Hall  is  not  greater  than  the  National  Government,  and, 
if  you  take  a  broad,  statesmanlike  view  of  the  case,  you  and  your 
friends  will  come  on  board  the  cutter  with  me." 

I  had  not  time  to  reply  when  the  door  was  burst  in,  and  I  was 
seized  bodily  and  borne  to  the  centre  of  the  saloon.  Room  was 
made  for  the  five  prisoners  to  come  together  to  receive  an  invitation 
of  welcome  from  the  Municipal  Government.  We  were  introduced 
to  John  Mitchel  and  Richard  O'Gorman,  one  of  wThom  read  the  ad- 
dress, and  then  a  scene  arose  that  baffles  description. 

A  college  professor  from  the  West,  who  sat  at  our  table  during 
the  voyage,  whispered  me  aside  and  said,  "  Rossa,  if  you  would 
excuse  me  for  offering  an  advice  it  would  be  this — Receive  the  invi- 
tation from  the  Nation  first.  Let  the  Government  cutter  receive  you 
from  the  English  ship.     Let  the  national  flag  carry  you  to  American 


426  C  Donovan  Rossa?$  Prison  Life. 

soil,  and  when  you  are  landed  in  the  city,  you  can,  with  propriety, 
accept  the  other  invitation,  if  you  wish." 

This  was  sound  advice,  but  the  increasing  din  of  voices,  the  up- 
roar, the  shouting  and  shoving,  forbade  a  quiet  thought  to  be  given 
to  anything.  We  saw  acquaintances  now  at  both  sides  of  the  house 
warmly  contending  one  against  the  other.  All  of  them  were  our 
friends,  but  the  fight  had  waxed  so  warm  that  we  saw  we  could  not 
get  out  of  making  half  of  them  our  enemies  if  we  accepted  either  of 
the  invitations. 

In  the  midst  of  the  melee,  Dr.  Carnochan,  the  Health  Officer  ol 
the  port,  came  and  ordered  the  ship  to  be  quarantined,  as  there  was 
a  case  of  small-pox  on  board,  and  no  passengers  should  be  allowed 
on  shore  till  further  orders.  The  Health  Officer  was  on  the  Tam- 
many side  of  the  house,  and  this  was  a  clever  display  of  the  tactics 
of  the  party.  If  we  accepted  the  national  invitation  the  Health  Of- 
ficer could  not  allow  us  to  infect  the  city  with  small-pox ;  if  we  ac- 
cepted the  city  invitation,  there  mightn't  be  much  dangep  of  the 
contagion. 

We  craved  a  short  time  for  consultation,  and  were  allowed  it. 
We  retired,  and  decided  we  would  go  to  a  private  hotel,  and  after 
twenty  minutes  we  returned  to  the  saloon  and  read  the  following 
reply  to  the  invitations : 

On  Board  the  "  Cuba,"  Jan.  19,  1871. 
To  the  Gentlemen  of  the  several  Deputations  for  Receiving  the  Irish  Exiles. 

Gentlemen  :  We  thank  you  for  all  your  invitations,  and  we  will  try  to  accept  all, 
but  we  are  only  a  few  of  many.  Our  fellow-prisoners  are  on  the  way  hit!  er,  and  we 
will  take  no  public  step  untl  tliey  arrive.  Y  <u  may  look  upon  us  as  representing 
the  cause  of  Ireland,  for  the  interest  of  which  cause  we  desire  that  all  Irishmen 
should  be  united.  It  is  painful  to  us  to-night  to  see  so  much  disunion  amongst  your- 
selves. For  what  your  recepti*  n  concerns  us  as  individuals  we  care  little  compared 
to  what  we  feel  about  it  in  conned  ion  with  the  interest  of  Irish  independence,  and  as 
you  have  not  united  cordially  to  receive  us,  we  will  not  decide  on  anything  until  the 
arrival  of  our  brothers.  We  will  remain  on  board  the  ship  to-night,  and  go  to  a  hotel 
to-mcrrow. 

We  remain,  gentlemen,  yours,  very  respectfully, 

JER.  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA, 
CHARLES  U.  O'CONNELL, 
JOHN  DEVOY, 
JOHN  McCLURE, 
HENRY  S.  MULLEDA. 

If  this  did  not  please  any  one,  it  calmed  the  elements  a  little,  snd 
the  storm  began  to  subside.  By  and  by  I  found  myself  hitting  in  the 
parlor  listening  to  a  very  spicy  debate  between  the  Collector  and  Mr. 
O'Gorman.  They  hit  at  each  other  pretty  hard  in  a  gentlemanly  way 
but  some  less  gentlemanly  person  present  joined  in  the  debate,  making 
use  of  the  rude  and  vulgar  observation  that  he  knew  the  Collector 
many  years  ago  when  they  boarded  in  the  same  house,  and  that  he  was 
not  then  as  big  a  man  as  lie  was  now.  This  turned  my  sympathy 
to  the  side  of  Mr.  Murphy — which  I  found  to  be  the  Collector's  name. 
I  don't  know  that  he  is  as  Irish  a  i  his  name  indicates,  but  he  is  the 
most  prominent  and  influential  Irishman  in  the  city  to-day.     He  was 


0' 'Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life,  427 

born  in  1823  in  Ballinacht,  Garryowen  County,  and  his  father,  John 
Murphy,  who  was  land  agent  to  old  William  Wise,  of  Cork,  brought 
the  whole  family  to  America  in  or  about  1832 — man-servants,  maid- 
servants, et  cetera — in  all  seventeen  souls. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  we  left  the  steamer  and  went  to 
Sweeny's  Hotel,  telling  the  proprietor  we  were  ourselves  to  pay  for 
our  board,  and  requesting  him  to  receive  money  from  no  one  on  that 
account.  A  sum  of  money  had  been  subscribed  previous  to  our 
arrival,  which  lay  in  the  hands  of  Mr.  O'Gorman.  He  presented  us 
with  fifteen  thousand  dollars  of  it  for  "  the  exiles,"  and  when  we 
came  to  inquire  about  our  hotel  bill  we  found  it  was  also  paid. 

Deputations,  invitations,  addresses  and  congratulations  continued 
to  pour  in,  and  morning,  noon  and  night  the  hotel  was  besieged  with 
visitors.  Our  hands  got  swollen  and  sore  from  hand-shaking.  It 
was  a  hearty,  generous  welcome  of  the  people,  but  we  were  heartily 
wishing  it  would  come  to  an  end. 

We  made  up  our  minds  that  we  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
either  of  the  political  parties,  and,  as  we  did  not  land  in  the  Govern- 
ment steamer,  w«  determined  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  Tammany 
Hall.  But  here  a  difficulty  arose.  It  was  thought  we  could  not 
well  refuse  a  public  reception,  offered  by  the  City,  without  laying 
ourselves  open  to  the  charge  of  treating  the  authorities  with  con- 
tempt, and  this  position  we  did  not  wish  to  be  placed  in.  Knowing 
that  the  eyes  of  England  were  upon  us  also,  we  accepted  the  invi- 
tation, and  the  programme  laid  down  by  the  City  Fathers  was  to 
have  us  taken  to  Tammany  Hall  and  to  have  the  procession  start 
from  there.  Once  we  placed  ourselves  in  the  hands  of  the  author- 
ities we,  in  all  decency,  felt  bound  to  acquiesce  in  their  manage- 
ment of  the  proceedings.  I  felt  bitter  to  think  that,  after  all  the 
efforts  we  made  to  steer  clear  of  party — to  act  straight  between  all 
and  give  neither  side  a  victory  or  defeat — we  were  now  being  taken 
to  a  place  that  would  give  our  existence  a  political  complexion. 

While  laboring  under  the  vexation  of  seeing  the  cause  of  Ireland 
brought  into  this  question  of  American  party  politics,  I  was  called 
upon  to  speak,  and  I  spoke  something  that  seemed  not  pleasing  to 
the  leaders. 

I  said  if  I  went  to  Ireland,  and  that  the  Orangemen  there  offered 
me  a  welcome,  I  would  joyfully  accept  it  as  a  tribute  to  the  cause 
we  represented,  and  coupling  the  name  of  Tammany  in  some  infeli- 
citous manner  with  this  observation,  "  I  put  my  foot  in  it."  It  was 
in  the  original  programme  to  take  us  into  the  City  Hall  when 
passing  it.  As  we  approached  the  place  there  was  a  halt  of  about 
an  hour,  but  what  I  said  threw  cold  water  on  everything  that  was 
prepared  there,  we  were  not  invited  in,  and  the  official  part  of  the 
ceremony  ended  ungraciously. 

The  Common  Council  of  Brooklyn  voted  us  a  public  reception 
also,  and  we  had  to  appear  in  state  there  another  day.  The  Mayor 
and  Aldermen  of  Jersey  City  followed  suit,  but  we  decided  on  having 


428  O^  Donovan  Bosstfs  Prison  Life. 

no  more  public  honors.  Alderman  Harrington,  a  Dunmanway 
Irishman,  was  in  New  York  tVery  day  pressing  us  to  accept  the  Jer- 
sey offering,  but  we  reasoned  him  out  of  his  anxiety  to  fete  us. 

The  representatives  of  the  nation,  in  Senate  assembled  in  Wash- 
ington, welcomed  us  in  a  resolution  introduced  by  the  Hon.  Ben- 
jamin Butler,  and  the  State  representatives  in  Albany  sent  us  their 
greeting  through  the  Governor : 

State  op  New  York,  Executive  Chamber,  ) 
Albany,  Feb.  18,1871.     \ 
Sir:  I  take  pleasure  in  transmitting  to  you  herewith  a  copy  of  a  "  resolution  of 
welcome  "  to  this  country,  which  had  been  unanimously  adopted  by  the  Senate  and 
Assembly  of  the  State. 

m   T     ,    ™         Ver^  respectfully,  JOHN  T.  HOFFMAN. 

To  Jer'h  0 'Donovan  Ross  a. 

State  of  New  York,  Assembly  Chamber,  ) 
Albany,  Feb.  16, 1871.  f 
Besolved,  if  the  Senate  concur,  That  the  Legislature,  in  the  name  and  on  behalf  of 
the  people  of  the  State  of  New  York,  extend  to  Th<  *mas  Clark  Luby,  Jeremiah  0 'Donovan 
Rossa,  Charles  Underwood  O'Connell,  John  O'Leary,  Thomas  F.  Bourke,  and  their 
associates,  the  Irish  exiles  and  patriots  recently  landed  upon  our  shores,  a  most  hearty 
welcome  to  our  country,  and  that  a  copy  of  this  resolution  be  transmitted  to  them  by 
the  Governor  of  this  State. 

By  order,  C.  W.  ARMSTRONG,  Clerk. 

In  Senate,  Feb.  15, 1871.— Concurred  in  without  amendment, 

By  order,  HIRAM  CALKINS,  Clerk. 

The  whole  affair  is  now  past  and  gone ;  the  excitement  is  all 
oyer ;  there  seems  to  be  no  Ireland — no  Irish  revolutionary  cause 
alive  in  New  York  ;  the  "  exiles"  have  sunk  to  their  natural  level 
of  humble  private  individuals  ;  but  whatever  can  be  said  of  them — 
whatever  be  their  faults  and  failings — it  can  never  be  said  they 
availed  of  their  position  then  to  forward  their  own  interests — to 
feather  their  own  nests.  No ;  Ireland's  Cause  was  uppermost  with 
them;  they  sank  their  own  individuality  to  raise  that  ;  and  if  it  is 
now 

"  Down  in  the  dust,  and  a  shame  to  be  seen," 
they  had  no  hand  in  dragging  it  down. 

Place  and  position  were  within  easy  reach  of  them ;  the  ruling 
powers  keeping  pace  with  the  exuberant  outburst  of  welcome  were 
generously  disposed.  I  myself  might  have  been  a  lord  to-day — or 
a  Sing  Sing  convict — had  I  grasped  the  treasures  laid  before  me. 
The  man  who  gave  Mr.  Green  control  of  the  City  of  New  York 
paid  me  a  visit  at  Sweeny's  Hotel  one  of  these  days.  Mr.  Sweeny 
told  me  he  was  coming,  and  asked  me  not  to  be  out.  I  remained 
in,  and  when  Mr.  Richard  B.  Connolly  was  announced  I  admitted 
him.  Mr.  Sweeny  ordered  up  a  bottle  of  champagne,  and  as  we 
were  drinking  it  the  Comptroller  lamented  the  death  of  his  deputy, 
Mr.  Watson,  who  was  killed  a  few  days  before.  He  wanted  a  man 
to  fill  his  place,  and  he  did  not  know  where  to  get  one.  He  looked 
inquiringly  at  me.  I  felt  contused,  and  only  said  he  ought  not  to 
have  much  difficulty  there,  with  the  number  of  smart  men  New  YorK 


0J Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  429 

contained.  I  shoved  this  away  from  me  as  I  would  any  other  hon- 
ors that  could  be  offered  me  at  the  time  by  either  Collector  Murphy 
or  Comptroller  Connolly.  I  would  not  be  so  scary  of  accepting  them 
now.  "  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men,"  but  I  went  against  the 
current  of  mine  when  it  was  high  water,  and  I  am  no  way  sorry 
for  it. 

The  newspapers  differing  in  political  opinion  agreed  in  admit- 
ting that  we  had  behaved  ourselves  becomingly  ;  the  Black  Repub- 
licans and  the  red-hot  Democrats  gave  us  their  meed  of  praise. 
Here  is  a  specimen  from  each : 

THE  RESOLVE  OF  THE  EXPATRIATED  REBELS. 

(From  the  JSFew  York  Irish  Democrat.) 

"  On  all  sides  we  hear  unqualified  commendation  of  the  reticence  and  retirement  of 
the  Irish  exiles  since  their  arrival  amongst  us— of  the  good  taste  and  considerate  feeling 
that  declined  an  ovation  until  their  fellow  martyrs  could  participate  in  the  honor, 
and  of  the  sound  judgment  that  preserved  them  from  being  made  the  mere  shuttle- 
cocks of  political  parties.  The  temptations  were  great,  and  the  resistance  was  pro- 
portionately creditable.  But  from  the  antecedents  of  the  men  we  could  have  expected 
no  other  result ;  they  were  not  patriots  for  mere  pageantry — no  kid-glove  nationalists, 
to  expend  their  zeal  on  platforms— they  strove  nob'y  and  nobly  suffered ;  and  there 
was  no  nobler  characteristic  marking  their  career  than  their  conduct  now." 

HEAD    LEVEL. 
CFrom  the  New  York  Standard.) 

"  The  highest  compliment  that  can  be  made  to  a  man  on  the  Pacific  slope  is  to 
credit  him  with  carrying  his  head  level,  and  we  can  think  of  no  more  appropriate  or 
forcible  expression  by  which  to  designate  the  public  esteem  for  Mr.  O'Donovau  Rossa 
since  his  arrival  in  this  country.  As  the  principal  among  the  fi'-st  arrivals  of  Fenian 
ex  les,  he  has  been  regarded  as  the  expounder  of  their  w  11,  and.  le  has  certainly 
added  much  to  the  reputation  of  Irishmen  by  the  delicacy  and  determination  of  his 
method  of  management. 

While  the  Metropolitan  Hotel  and  Astor  House  were  secured  for  the  reception  of 
himself  and  brethren,  where  they  could  live  in  state  on  a  par  with  the  Japanese 
princes,  he  preferred  the  retirement  of  a  modest  hotel,  kept  on  economical  princi- 
ples. He  cut  the  gordian  knot  which  released  Tammany  a  >d  te  Irish  Republicans 
from  tearing  his  coat,  by  politely  but  fi  mly  resisting  the  overtures  of  either,  a  id 
what  promised  a  row  will  end  i  1  an  ovation.  Never  had  man  a  fairer  opportunity 
of  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  for  the  next  six  months,  at  least;  to  be  feasted  at 
Washington,  paraded  at  Philadelphia,  or  whiskeyed  at  Louisville,  to  his  heart's 
content. 

He  is  obliged,  for  the  consistency  of  things,  to  accept  the  ovation  of  his  thousands 
of  admirers  on  Thursday  next." 

We  had  two  difficulties  to  encounter  in  our  desire  to  steer  clear 
ol  politics.  There  were  two  phases  of  the  mania  raging — the  Irish 
one  and  the  American  one — and  of  the  two  the  former  was  the 
worst.  The  different  sections  of  what  is  called  the  Fenian  element, 
surrounded  us,  all  calling  aloud  for  "Union,"  "Union,"  "Union," 
and  when  we  turned  our  attention  to  their  call,  we  found  the  union 
that  each  party  wanted  was  an  adhesion  to  itself.  Let  us  join  them 
and  all  the  other  factions  should  come  in  or  die  out.  We  were  called 
upon  by  all  to  start  something  that  would  embrace  all.  If  we  did 
not  do  so  we  were  most  culpable  and  guilty  of  letting  the  opportu- 
nity slip  of  doing  good.  We,  on  leaving  prison,  had  resolved,  as  I 
said  before,  not  to  mix  ourselves  up  with  the  Fenian  question  here. 


430  C  Donovan  Rosstfs  Prison  Life. 

but  if  we  did  not  respond  to  this  call  made  upon  us  it  would  be  said 
to-day  and  evermore,  that  we  had  shirked  our  duty.  We  started  the 
Irish  Confederation,  with  a  platform  broad  enough  to  give  standing 
room  to  every  kind  of  Irish  society  existing  in  the  country,  but  the 
very  men  that  called  most  loudly  for  action  on  our  part,  were  the 
first  to  set  their  faces  against  the  success  of  our  work.  When  they 
saw  they  could  not  swallow  us  up,  they  raised  the  cry  that  the  ex- 
iles were  tyrannical,  "  they  wanted  to  control  everything,"  and  this- 
cry  has — in  the  interests  of  division  and  disorder — been  kept  up  to 
the  present  day. 

When  I  saw  I  could  do  no  more  in  America  than  help  to  build  up 
another  faction  or  party  where  so  many  existed,  I  gave  up  the  Con- 
federation. 

I  was  disgusted  with  the  Irish  politics  of  the  country,  disgusted 
with  hearing  and  seeing  societies  organizing  to  aid  Irishmen  in  Ire- 
Jand  to  fight  England,  and  not  sending  one  red  cent  to  buy  arms,  or 
anything  else.  No,  but  worse  than  that;  the  very  men  that  were 
most  energetic  in  calling  for  money  to  help  "  the  men  at  home,"  were 
cutting  the  throats  of  "  the  men  at  home,"  by  industriously  circula- 
ting the  lie  that  they  were  not  fit  to  be  entrusted  with  the  use  of 
money. 

A  plague  upon  your  falsehoods — you  do-nothing  drive] lers. 
Only  for  the  men  at  home,  only  for  their  action  and  conduct  there, 
the  name  of  Irish  liberty  in  America  would  stink,  on  account  of 
your  work  in  the  sacred  name  of  it  here. 

If  you  had  the  opportunity ;  or,  having  the  opportunity,  if  you 
ever  had  the  courage  to  work  with  "  the  men  at  home,"  you  would 
not  work  against  them  now  in  this  manner. 

One  of  these  men  at  home  is  worth  a  thousand  of  you  here,  is 
worth  a  thousand  of  us  here,  is  worth  a  thousand  of  themselves  here, 
for  Irish  revolutionary  purposes.  One  John  Kenealy  in  Ireland  is 
worth  a  thousand  John  Kenealys  in  San  Francisco.  We  degenerate 
when  we  leave  the  old  land.  We  have  no  enemy  to  rouse  the  blood 
into  a  healthy  circulation. 

Seeing  that  the  great  hurra  of  our  reception  in  New  York  and 
ithe  great  popularity  it  brought  me,  brought  me  no  power  to  do  any 
good  for  these  men  who  expected  something  from  us,  and  seeing 
they  were  under  the  impression  I  could  do  anything  I  liked  if  I 
exerted  myself,  I  found  myself  getting  out  of  humor.  I  did  not 
much  mind  how  soon  I  was  relieved  of  such  popularity.  I  sometimes 
got  into  company,  and  sometimes  talked  American  politics,  and  I 
was  very  often  given  to  understand  that  I  could  be  nothing — should 
be  nothing  unless  a  Tammany  man.  If  I  wasn't  Tammany  I  wasn't 
Irish,  and  the  very  people  who  leaped  for  joy  at  my  release  from 
prison  would  repudiate  my  being  an  Irishman. 

This  set  me  thinking.  had  stood  up  as  a  freeman  in  an  enslaved 
land.     For  this  T  had  an  ft  r  A  '  imprisonment,  and  in  prison 

I  tried  to  keep  my  soul   11  I  was  now  in  a   free  country, 


O^  Donovan  RosscCs  Prison  Life.  431 

and  my  mind  revolted  at  being  told  I  should  hold  myself  as  a  kind 
of  slave.  I  found  myself  becoming  a  "  rebel "  again,  and  nursing  a 
determination  to  sacrifice  my  popularity  to  my  independence  when- 
ever an  opportunity  offered. 

In  company,  one  day,  the  conversation  turned  on  the  "  exiles'  " 
reception,  and,  while  admitting  the  demonstration  was  genuine  on 
the  part  of  the  people,  I  asserted  there  was  more  of  the  American 
politician  in  it  in  the  end  than  of  anything  else.  I  also  asserted  that 
we  Irish  of  New  York  are  American  politicians  before  we  are  Irish, 
or  anything  else.  I  am  not  saying  this  is  wrong.  The  Irishman 
has  done  as  much  as  any  other  man  to  make  America ;  there  is  as 
much  of  his  sweat  and  blood  in  the  soil  as  of  any  other  man's; 
and,  having  no  country  of  his  own,  his  existence  is  wound  up  more 
closely  than  any  other  foreigner's  with  its  institutions,  and  it  is 
only  natural  he  should  take  a  primary  interest  in  all  that  concerns 
the  public  where  his  lot  is  laid.  But  what  I  don't  like  to  see, 
and  what  I  think  I  do  see  here,  is  Irishmen  kicking  up  their  heels 
as  if  the  whole  country  belonged  to  them,  as  if  they  had  no  taint 
of  slavery  connected  with  them.  The  man  in  Ireland  that  would 
ride  with  boots  and  spurs,  and  cut  up  a  shine  at  fair  or  market, 
while  his  mother  was  in  the  poor-house,  would  soon  be  made  to 
lower  his  head  by  some  cutting  remark  from  a  passer-by,  and  I 
never  can  listen  to  an  Irishman  here  "  bouncing"  about  his  being  a 
free  man,  without  thinking  of  his  mother  in  the  poor-house.  When 
a  man  gets  married  to  a  young  woman,  his  obligations  to  his  mother 
do  not  cease  ;  he  is  considered  bad  if  he  throws  her  out  of  doors. 

In  this  company  I  speak  of,  Captain  Tom  Costello  disputed  what 
I  said  about  our  people  being  more  American  than  Irish,  and  I 
promised  him  I  would  try  it  in  a  small  way  at  the  next  election.  I 
thought  it  well,  also,  to  make  a  lesson  for  my  countrymen  in  Ire- 
land, who  thought  that  the  people  who  threw  up  their  hats  on  my 
landing  would  throw  me  into  the  presidency  if  they  could. 

An  opportunity  soon  offered,  and  everything  was  propitious. 
Mr.  Wm.  M.  Tweed  represented  the  most  Irish  district  of  the  city ; 
his  term  of  office  had  expired  and  he  was  up  for  re-election.  I  went 
to  Collector  Murphy  and  told  him  I  would  run  against  Mr.  Tweed 
if  he  gave  me  any  support.  He  got  me  the  nomination  and  one 
thousand  dollars,  and  I  got  seven  thousand  votes  counted  for  me 
against  Mr.  Tweed's  thirteen  thousand.  He  was  then  charged 
with  the  robberies  for  which  he  is  now  undergoing  a  sentence  of 
ten  years'  penal  servitude.  It  was  the  Irish  people  "  elected  "  him. 
I  say  it  to  show  how  much  they  were  in  the  hands  of  those  trickster 
politicians  that  use  them  to  the  shame  and  disgrace  of  our  national 
reputation. 

A  cry  was  immediately  raised  against  me.  I  had  gone  against 
Tammany  Hall ;  I  had  gone  against  the  Irish,  I  was  a  renegade.  I 
had  done  what  no  public  Irishman  did  here  before.  A  club  of  the 
Irish  Confederation  in  Memphis  or  some  Southern  city  wrote  saying 


432  O' Donovan  Rosso? s  Prison  Life. 

they  could  not  have  confidence  in  contributing  any  more  money  for 
Ireland  while  I  was  on  the  Directory,  and  I  received  several  evi- 
dences that  I  committed  political  suicide. 

An  Irishman  writing  in  the  Globe  of  Nov.  6th,  1871,  said: 

"  0 'Donovan  Rossa  did  more  within  a  few  years  to  bring  a?,out  the  disreputable 
state  of  Irish  national  sentiment,  than  all  the  fiasco  mishaps  and  blunders  often  years' 
mismanagement  of  Fenian  organizations."  "  Is  it  not  most  lamentable  and  most  piti- 
able that  all  future  efforts  for  Ireland's  redemption  by  true  men  is  marred  and  sullied 
by  this  man's  stupidity?  Oh,  Ireland's  patriots  and  martyrs,  how  you  and  your  great 
cause  is  blurred  by  the  mercenary  conduct  of  Rossa."  "Oh,  shame,  where  is  thy 
blush."  Mr.  Rossa's  course  of  conduct  in  this  matter  has  done  more  damage  to  Irish 
nationality,  and  more  to  destroy  a  future  confidence  in  so-called  Irish  patriots  than 
the  treachery  of  all  the  perjured  informers  for  hundreds  of  years!  "How  absurd 
and  stupid,  because  of  an  inconsistent  and  coarse  stubbornness  on  his  part  whilst  in 
prison,  gained  for  him  a  notoriety,  that  when  a  free  man  to  act  and  perform,  had  not 
brains  enough  to  guide  his  political  conduct  into  a  consistent  and  legitimate  channel." 
Rossa's  political  floundering  in  the  interest  of  Tom  Murphy,  Grant's  Ku-Klux  whipper- 
in,  absolutely  proves  him  to  be  purely  a  man  of  chance,  who  was  pitchforked  into 
Irish  national  notoriety  !  "  Would  not  Mr.  Rossa  command  much  respect  from  Irish- 
men and  Americans,  etc.,  if  he  became  attached  to  the  only  legitimate  Irish  party  in 
the  country,  and  not  be  a  tool  of  Grant?"  Alas,  poor  Yorick !  O'Donovan  Rossa's  work 
for  Ireland  is  over  and  done,  his  political  career  is  passed ;  his  grave  is  open  and  will 
be  forever  closed  on  Tuesday  next.  "  What  a  name  !  what  vast  renown  !  what  im- 
perishable honors  he  and  his  country  would  gain  if  England's  bloody  government 
never  pardoned  him." 

God  help  you,  you  poor  pitiful  slave !  you  have  Rossa's  prayers 
for  your  restoration  to  light  and  freedom. 

I  opposed  Tammany  !  Tammany — the  only  party  that  ever 
gave  any  representation  to  an  Irishman  !  I  was  lost.*  My  career 
was  ended.  But  I  was  satisfied,  and  the  Irish  people  may  be  satis- 
fied that  while  I  live  I  will  oppose  Tammany  while  Tammany  dis 
graces  the  Irish  character  by  the  men  she  takes  to  represent  us. 
John  Mitchell  is  a  consistent  advocate  at  that  side  of  the  house  for 
the  last  twenty  years.  Hostility  to  England's  government  of  Ire- 
land is  the  grand  characteristic  of  the  Irish  character,  and  he  is  the 
the  grandest  representative  of  that  in  America.  Has  Tammany 
taken  him  to  represent  the  Irish  people  ?  No,  he  doesn't  want  it ; 
he  doesn't  go  the  right  slavish  way  to  seek  favors ;  they  are  not 
offered  to  him,  but  are  given  to  men  who  are  only  fit  to  be  the  re- 
presentatives of  slaves,  who,  having  Irish  names  and  rowdy  man- 
ners, degrade  and  lower  our  character  by  presenting  in  their  repre- 
sentative persons  to  the  beholders,  a  spurious  standard  of  our  man- 
hood and  intelligence. 

^  Even  though  I  may  oppose  Tammany,  I  have  enough  of  Irish 
pride  and  feeling  left  to  make  me  wish  that  when  they  do  select 
Irishmen  for  the  purpose  of  securing  the  Irish  vote  these  should  be 
respectable  independent  men,  and  not  disreputable  slavish  ones. 

Apart  from  anything  else  I  have  been  saying,  if  I  could  become 
an  American  politician  and  go  into  American  politics  with  the  same 
soul  that  I  could  go  into  Irish  politics,  I  would  differ  with  this  Tam- 
many party  on  pure  principle  alone.  Its  strength  is  made  up  of 
foreign-born  men — of  hard-toiling  men,  too,  who  leave  their  native 


C  Donovan  Bossa's  Prison  Life.  433 

land  and  come  here  to  earn  higher  wages.  The  blacksmith  that 
gets  three  or  four  shillings  a  day  making  graffavms  in  Ireland 
comes  here  and  gets  three  or  four  dollars  a  day.  He  joins  a  trade 
society  to  protect  him  in  retaining  this  wages  and  to  help  him  in 
getting  an  increase  of  it ;  but  at  the  very  same  time  he  commits  the 
inconsistency  of  joining  Tammany,  that  is  working  to  keep  his 
wages  down — Tammany,  that  is  laboring  with  all  its  might  to  get 
graffawns  that  are  manufactured  in  England  brought  to  America 
free  of  duty,  where  they  can  be  sold  cheaper  than  the  mechanic  can 
make  them,  and  the  mechanic  must  necessarily  lose  his  business  or 
lower  his  wages  if  Tammany  principles  prevail. 

I  am  touching  now  on  the  question  of  Tariff  or  Free  Trade.  If 
principles  were  respected,  and  if  I  had  to  take  sides  actively  in 
American  politics,  I  would  unquestionably  be  on  the  side  of  those 
who  advocate  the  imposition  of  a  duty  on  foreign  manufactures. 
Even  at  the  present  day,  seeing  the  number  of  men  that  are  in  want 
of  employment  in  New  York  and  other  places,  I  don't  know  that 
it  would  not  be  for  the  interest  of  the  country — it  would  at  least 
be  for  the  interest  of  the  unemployed — to  impose  a  tariff  on  the 
importation  of  further  emigrants  until  those  we  have  are  provided 
with  labor. 

The  Common  Council  of  New  York,  this  week,  passed  a  resolu- 
tion that  no  outsider  coming  to  New  York  should  be  employed 
there  while  there  was  a  six  months'  resident  of  the  city  out  of  em- 
ployment. Let  this  be  taken  to  heart  by  my  friends  in  Ireland 
who  intend  emigrating,  and  let  them  not  be  coming  out  here  and 
going  back  again  disappointed,  as  many  have  done  this  very  present 
year. 

I  have  had  something  to  do  with  emigration  since  I  came  here, 
but  I  am  not  so  wound  up  in  making  a  fortune  at  it  as  to  let  it  pre- 
sent me  from  giving  a  word  of  advice  to  the  men  at  home. 

I  know  many  of  them  are  forced  to  leave  the  old  land,  but  I 
know  many  more  of  them  are  cheated  into  coming  here.  For  in- 
stance :  Conn  Callaghan  comes  to  America,  induced  by  letters  writ- 
ten home  by  Morty  Downing,  who  stated  he  was  making  a  fortune. 
It  is  Conn's  turn  to  write  home,  and  as  he  was  as  good  and  industri- 
trious  a  man  in  the  old  land  as  Morty,  he  must  stand  still  as  good, 
and  he  writes  that  he  is  making  a  fortune,  too.  Then  their  brother- 
in-law  Johnny  Shea  must  try  his  luck,  and  he  breaks  up  house  and 
brings  a  large  family  to  New  York,  knowing  he  has  friends  there 
well  off,  who  will  help  him.  He  takes  his  family,  bag  and  baggage, 
to  Conn's  or  to  Morty's,  and  he  finds  them  in  a  fourth  story  floor  in 
Cherry  street,  with  hardly  spare  room  enough  to  give  a  cat  a  night's 
lodging.  Johnny  must  write  home  and  be  as  good  as  the  others, 
and  so  the  deception  goes  on.  I  have  witnessed  several  cases  of  this 
kind  within  the  past  year,  and  I  have  seen  the  bitter  tears  of  disap- 
pointment shed  when  the  friends  met. 

As  my  feelings  have  dragged  me  into  these  observations,  I  can- 


434  C1  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life, 

not  close  without  a  few  words  more  to  emigrants.  There  is  plenty 
of  room  in  this  country  for  all  the  oppressed  peoples  of  the  world 
if  they  go  into  the  country  and  are  able  to  settle  down  on  land, 
but  if  they  are  not  able  there  is  no  living  being  here  to  assist  them. 
My  countrymen  may  hear  and  read  as  mucli  as  they  please  about 
Irish  benevolent  societies  and  Irish  emigrant  aid  societies,  but  these 
are  all  money-making  concern^,  and  the  new-comer  arriving  in  New 
\  ork  poverty-stricken  or  stricken  by  sickness  finds  himself  miserable 
and  pitiable,  and  finds  no  Irish  benevolent  or  aid  societies  to  lend 
him  a  dollar  or  a  helping  hand. 

This  is  not  as  it  should  be.  The  Germans  do  better  for  their 
people.  They  have  organizations  to  help  them  out  West.  The 
Irish  have  only  Tammany,  and  Tammany  has  governed  these  emi- 
gration departments  for  past  years  to  the  enrichment  of  office-holders 
and  the  neglect  of  the  emigrants'  interests,  and  the  interests  of  the 
nation. 

I  am  not  saying  that  things  are  any  better  now  that  there  is  a 
change  of  rulers,  nor  do  I  say  things  are  going  to  be  better.  With 
many  of  the  influential  men  of  all  parties  here,  dollars  seem  to  be 
more  prized  than  principles,  and  the  rush  for  emolumentary  position 
will  allow  nothing  to  stand  in  its  way. 

I  know  many  good  and  honest  Tammany  men  who  think  as  I 
do,  whose  principles  incline  them  the  other  way,  but  who  are  this 
way  because  principles  of  themselves  are  not  respected,  and  there 
is  little  show  or  consideration  for  Irishmen  at  the  other  side.  They 
say  when  an  Irishman  is  put  on  the  "  Republican  "  ticket  there  is 
such  a  prejudice  against  him,  particularly  if  he  be  affected  with  the 
taint  of  Catholicity,  that  he  "  runs  far  behind  his  ticket."  The 
party  he  has  been  working  with  will  vote  for  a  "  Democrat "  before 
voting  for  him.  If  this  is  so — and  I  believe  it  is  to  some  extent — 
the  "  Republicans "  may  blame  themselves  for  having  Tammany 
Hall  so  strong  with  the  Irish,  and  Republican  Hall  so  weak.  If 
they  only  treated  the  Irish  fairly,  my  countrymen  would  act  fairly 
by  them.  When  bigots  are  allowed  a  standing-place  in  countries 
where  there  is  less  freedom  than  in  this,  I  suppose  it  is  only  fair 
they  should  be  allowed  a  standing-ground  here,  but  it  is  as  unfair 
for  them  to  claim  the  sole  right  to  possess  the  country  as  it  is  to 
claim  the  sole  right  to  heaven. 

The  most  saintly  of  them  cannot  claim  a  longer  priority  of  right 
than  two  hundred  years,  and  while  we  respect  that  right  and  all  the 
other  rights  established  by  the  Constitution,  there  should  be  noplace 
for  hatred  of  race,  creed  or  color  in  the  breast  of  any  man  treading 
that  soil  which  the  great  founders  of  the  Republic  contemplated  to 
be  a  home  for  the  oppressed,  tyrant-stricken  people  of  the  Old  World. 

And  as  to  this  religious  prejudice  against  the  Irish,  is  it  not  old- 
womanish  and  contemptible  in  this  age?  Ought  not  those  saintly 
bigots  know  that  the  way  to  Heaven  is  through  long  suffering,  sore 
trial  and  sorrow,  and  that  consequently  there  is  not  a^people  on  tne 


O'Dcniovan  IZossa?s  Prison  Life.  435 

face  of  the  earth  have  a  fairer  prospect  of  entering  the  Kingdom  than 
the  Irish  people.  Yes,  holy,  sanctimonious  bigots  !  you  may  mar  the 
happy  progress  of  the  people's  union  in  civil  and  religious  liberty; 
you  may  grudge  us  the  privileges  which  the  charter  accords  to  all ; 
but,  have  nothing  to  say  to  us  about  Heaven,  we  are  before  you 
there — do  not  refuse  us  the  graces  you  hold  by  being  before  us  here, 
and  we  will  be  only  too  happy  to  reciprocate. 

You  ought  to  know  that  the  Irish  are  more  likely  to  be  found 
loyal  to  the  flag  of  the  Republic  in  a  time  of  danger,  than  any  other 
adopted  citizens.  Suppose  we  had  a  war  with  Prussia,  it  would 
pain  the  German,  and  one  of  his  arms  would  undoubtedly  be  paral- 
ized.  A  war  with  France  would  unquestionably  make  another  arm 
of  a  Frenchman  powerless,  but  give  us  a  war  with  the  ruling  powers 
of  Ireland,  and  both  the  Irishman's  hands  would  be  raised  to  strike 
down  the  English  flag,  and  every  Irishman  would  rush  to  arms. 

It  is  said  the  bigots  are  again  striving  to  revive  that  ugly  spirit 
of  "  Know-Nothingism"  that  marred  the  happy  progress  of  the 
nation's  peace  and  prosperity,  and  left  such  bitter  memories  behind ; 
and  that  its  animus  now  is  more  directed  against  the  Catholic  .  rish 
than  against  any  others.  I  hope  they  will  desist  from  such  an  under- 
taking, and  consider  well  before  they  commence  such  a  crusade  against 
a  people  that  are  surrounded  by  all  the  favorable  circustances  that 
qualify  them  to  "  become  more  American  than  the  Americans  them- 
selves." 

Some  of  the  "  Republican  "  newspapers  do  much  also  to  scare 
Irishmen  away  from  the  ranks  of  that  party.  When  my  country- 
men take  a  prominent  part  in  electing  a  Tammany  ticket,  these 
newspapers  assail  the  whole  Irish  race  in  America  with  low,  vulgar 
abuse,  as  if  there  was  not  a  decent  man  amongst  them.  It  is 
jokingly  said  that  you  must  bore  a  hole  in  a  Scotchman's  head  to  get 
a  joke  into  it ;  but  if  you  want  to  get  the  decent,  manly  principle 
that  is  in  an  Irishman,  (  ut  of  him,  you  will  never  succeed  if  you  at- 
tempt it  by  cracking  his  skull. 

Collector  Murphy  has  some  controlling  influence  in  the  "  Repub- 
lican "  party  ;  he  is  certainly  free  from  those  prejudices  I  speak  of. 
Has  he  no  power  to  dispel  them  from  the  minds  of  others?  If  he 
had,  he  would  remove  the  greatest  barrier  that  stands  in  the  way  of 
the  manly  portion  of  the  Irish  people,  taking  that  side  to  which  their 
opinions  incline  them. 

If  my  memory  serves  me  right,  Mr.  Murphy  often  lamented  to 
me  that  the  Irish  citizens  did  not  treat  politics  as  the  Americans 
did,  and  range  themselves  on  different  sides,  according  to  their  judg- 
ment, instead  of  running  en  masse  to  one  side  and  making  it  appear 
to  our  native  born  cidzens  that  they  acted  from  impulse  and  not 
from  judgment.  He  trusted  I  would  "  instruct "  them  whenever  I 
got  an  opportunity,  and  this  being  the  only  opportunity  I  get  to 
hay  a  calm  word  on  either  side,  I  tell  him  if  he  does  his  best  to 
allay  those  prejudices  I  speak  of,  he  will  be  doing  more  than  a 
hundred  like  me  could  do  to  strengthen  his  narty. 


436  C  Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life. 

The  Collector  told  me  he  also  regretted  that  our  people,  who 
had  struggled  seven  hundred  years  for  liberty  and  won  the  respect 
of  Americans  on  account  of  that  struggle,  before  they  came  here, 
should  be  found,  as  soon  as  they  arrived,  rushing  in  a  body  into  the 
ranks  of  a  party  that  supported  slavery,  that  advocated  free  labor, 
and  that  would  hold  the  Irish  in  the  same  bonds  as  the  nigger  was 
held  if  it  so  happened  that  the  white  Irishman  had  been  born  their 
property.  That  in  place  of  joining  a  party  whose  officials  all  under- 
stood that  the  doctrine  of  that  party  was  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal," 
they  joined  a  party  who  believed  in  the  principle  "  Thou  shalt  not 
steal,"  with  word  "  not "  left  out — a  party  who  did  not  think  "  the 
laborer  worthy  of  his  hire."  While  he  seemed  to  wish  the  Irish 
citizen  should  vie  with  the  American  citizen  in  the  performance  of 
every  duty  belonging  to  a  good  man,  he  repudiated  the  idea  that  he 
should  not  retain  that  affection  for  his  native  land  that  a  child 
should  for  its  parent.  There  was  nothing  to  clash  in  the  nature  of 
a  man's  affection  for  his  wife  and  for  his  mother,  or  in  the  nature  of 
an  Irishman's  discharge  of  duty  to  America  and  to  Ireland.  If 
Irishmen  would  take  his  advice  in  this  direction,  they  would  be 
doing  all  that  would  be  expected  from  any  citizen,  and  adding  to 
the  future  greatness  of  a  country  that  will  eventually  be  their 
children's  home — the  greatest  country  and  the  best  government  on 
the  face  of  the  earth. 

But  to  be  just  to  both  sides,  I  must  admit  that  all  the  bigotry 
and  hatred  of  Irish  Catholics  is  not  entirely  on  the  side  of  the 
"  Republicans."  The  "  Democrats"  have  their  share  of  it,  and  Mr. 
Murphy  gave  me  numerous  instances  of  where  Irish  Catholics  on 
the  "  Democratic"  ticket  were  black-balled  by  the  "  Democratic" 
Americans,  who  voted  for  the  opposing  parties  in  preference  to 
them. 

And  yet  the  Irish  amongst  the  "  democrats  "  never  resented  such 
conduct.  They  always  voted  blind  "democrat"  for  whatever  can- 
didate was  put  before  them  by  the  party,  no  matter  though  that 
candidate  were  a  bitter  Know-Nothing  and  hater  of  their  name  and 
race.  He  instanced  the  case  of  Fernando  Wood  and  James  Brooks 
and  President  Pierce,  the  latter  of  whom  voted  against  the  repeal 
of  a  law  in  New  Hampshire  which  forbade  to  any  Catholic  the 
right  to  hold  office. 

These  men,  he  said,  knowing  the  impulsiveness  of  the  Irish  and 
their  love  of  country,  could  lead  them  any  way  that  answered  their 
interests,  with  the  cry  of  "  Fag-a-Bealagh  "  or  "  Erin-go- Br  agh." 
Oakey  Hall  in  a  suit  of  green  on  a  Patrick's  Day,  and  standing  on 
the  steps  of  the  City  Hall  as  the  processionists  passed,  could  elicit 
cheers  from  them  that  would  be  a  sure  pledge  of  their  forgetfulness 
of  his  past  Know-Nothingism,  and  of  a  continuance  of  their  support 
at  some  election  in  the  future. 

This  brings  to  my  mind  a  story  about  a  Patrick's  Day  in  Dublin, 
which  I  will  tell  to  illustrate  my  subject. 


0%  Donovan  Eossa's  Prison  Life.  437 

On  the  17th  of  March,  1864,  I  was  sitting  in  the  editor's  room 
of  the  Irish  People  office  in  J  2  Parliament  street,  when  Pagan 
O'Leary  rushed  in,  and,  throwing  up  the  windows,  seized  the  little 
pots  of  shamrocks  that  Jerry  O'Farrell  was  nursing  there,  and 
dashed  them  one  by  one  into  the  yard.  He  then  laid  hold  of  my 
ha  ,  and  snatching  the  shamrock  out  of  it,  trampled  it  under  his 
feet.  I  ran  to  save  my  hat  lest  that  would  be  trampled  too.  The 
Pagan's  rage  was  aroused  by  seeing  a  dog  wear  a  wreath  of  sham- 
rocks. The  Castle  yard  was  near  our  office,  and  the  Pagan  walked  in 
to  see  the  Patrick's  Day  pageant.  The  Lord  Lieutenant  was  on  the 
balcony  with  the  ladies  of  the  Castle  around  him,  and  one  of  the 
lap-d<>gs,  with  the  political  instincts  of  an  Oakey  Hall,  clothed  him- 
self in  a  garland  of  shamrocks,  and  in  the  arms  of  his  mistress  ex- 
hibited himself  to  the  multitude  with  the  National  emblem  around 
his  neck.  To  see  it  worn  by  a  dog  set  the  Pagan  raging,  and  to 
talk  shamrocks  to  him  since  would  be  as  much  as  your  life  was 
worth. 

There  are  many  Irishmen  in  New  York  politics  wearing  "sham- 
rocks "  who  care  very  little  for  the  cause  of  the  green  sod — who 
are  ashamed  to  have  their  name  associated  with  it  when  their  sham- 
rocks have  blossomed  into  diamonds.  There  are  enough  of  manly 
Irishmen  in  America,  no  matter  to  what  party  they  belong,  to  punish 
any  man  of  any  party  whom  they  would  find  making  a  dog-collar 
of  Ireland.  Bui  they  are  not  organized;  if  they  were,  the  examples 
of  Irish  politicians  deserting  the  Irish  cause  when  they  had  attained 
their  political  object  would  be  less  rare.  In  consequence  of  the  con- 
duct of  these  dog-collar  men,  the  name  of  an  Irish-American  politician 
stinks  in  the  nostrils  of  good  Irishmen  ;  and  they  do  not  interfere 
much  in  the  elections,  in  consequence  of  which  the  dog-collar  dodgers 
have  full  play  in  getting  into  positions.  It  is  by  their  standard  the 
character  of  our  people  is  measured.  This  is  not  as  it  should  be, 
and  I  trust  the  good  men  will  correct  it. 

In  writing  the  words  "republican"  and  "democrat"  I  have 
put  them  in  quotation  marks  because  I  do  not  know  what  they 
really  mean,  more  than  that  they  are  party  cries.  My  small  share  of 
education  tells  me  that  republican  comes  from  two  Latin  words  mean- 
ing public-affairs,  and  democrat  from  two  Greek  words  meaning 
people-government.  Now  there  is  no  "  democrat"  in  America  who 
is  not  interested  in  public  affairs,  and  consequently  must  be  a  re- 
publican ;  and  President  Grant,  being  a  governor  chosen  by  the  ma- 
jority of  the  people  in  people-government  form,  must  necessarily  be 
a  democratic  President. 

But  you  would  realize  how  beautifully  all  these  things  are  mud- 
dled if  you  were  listening  to  some  fuddled  Tammany  democrat 
making  an  election  speech.  I  heard  a  few  of  them  at  the  late  elec- 
tion, and  instead  of  Grant  being  elected  by  the  people -you'd  think 
\he  whole  thing  was  done  by  some  Connemara  man,  playing  the 
devil  with  something  in  a  Custom  House.      It  was    "  Grant  and 


4:38  O'' Donovan  Eossa/s  Prison  Life. 

Murphy,"  "Murphy  and  Grant,"  at  the  beginning  and  ending  of 
every  sentence,  with  the  "Custom  House"  coming  in  somewhere  in 
the  middle.  With  the  unfortunate  Boss  Tweed  booked  for  ten 
years'  imprisonment,  and  the  fortunate  Andy  Green  having  charge 
of  the  money  books  of  the  city,  and  all  the  old  Tammany  hacks  still 
"  running  the  machine"  and  grabbing  at  office,  and  at  everything  else 
within  their  reach,  I  was  not  at  all  possessed  with  the  belief  that 
that  public  virtue  which  is  the  vitality  of  republics  had  at  last  found 
its  way  into  that  machine  which  turned  out  such  dirty  work  lately. 

A  people  with  any  national  self-respect  would  avoid  the  vulgar 
practice  of  flinging  low  personal  abuse  at  their  nation's  Chief  Magis- 
trate— whether  he  be  "Democrat"  or  "Republican."  But  this 
seems  to  be  the  stock-in-trade  of  every  defeated  party  during  a 
presidential  term.  That  of  George  Washington  itself  was  not  an 
exception. 

One  observation  more  will  finish  me  on  politics.  Tweed  and 
Oakey  Hall  were  sterling  "  Democrats."  They  led  the  Irish  in  that 
name,  and  used  them  to  their  shame  and  disgrace.  But  they  enriched 
themselves,  and  those  about  them.  When  Tweed  the  great  "  Demo- 
crat" was  resigning  he  gave  his  place  to  Yan  Nort  a  "Republican." 
When  Oakey  Hall  the  great  "  Democrat  "  was  losing  his  power  he 
gave  Richard  O'Gorman's  place  to  Delafield  Smith,  a  "  Republican." 
Let  my  red-hot  "  Democrat "  countrymen  ponder  on  this,  and  let 
them  not  be  disposed  to  break  my  head  because  I  refuse  to  be  a 
slave  to  the  prejudices  that  blind  'them  to  see  such  chameleons  as 
these  in  their  proper  light. 

I  have  said  that  in  running  against  Tweed  I  committed  political 
suicide  with  the  Irish  people,  but  I  now  come  to  finish  my  career 
with  an  act  that 'killed  me  entirelr."  I  became  a  "Commune," 
and  as  the  story  of  all  sudden  deaths  are  somewhat  tragic  I  will 
tell  mine. 

While  I  was  in  prison  in  England  I  was  treated  pretty  harshly, 
and  publicity  of  my  treatment  was  the  only  protection  I  had  for  my 
life.  There  was  a  French  exile  in  London  named  Gustave  Flourens. 
He  became  interested  in  my  case— more  interested  than  many  Irish- 
men, and  more  interested  than  that  very  good  Catholic  Bishop  who 
sent  this  telegram  from  Rome  when  the  Irish  people  were  crying  out 
to  have  us  amnestied  : 

"  FROM  MONSIGNORE  M'CABE,  ROME,  TO  REV.  J.  REYNOLDS,  LONGFORD,  IRELAND. 

"  Your  letter  received.  Let  all  unite  and  prepare  for  contest.  Let  no  one  be  in- 
timidated. I  am  more  convinced  than  ever  of  the  necessity  of  opposing  Fenian  candi- 
dates.   No  priests  to  sign  the  new  amnesty  petition." 

Gustave  Flourens  did  not  do  anything  like  this,  but  he  translated 
an  account  of  my  treatment  into  French  and  German  and  had  it  pub- 
lished in  the  continental  papers.  This  vexed  England  a  little  and 
she  conceded  a  Commission  of  Inquiry  to  the  voice  of  public  opinion, 
which  Commission  established  the  truth  of  our  ill  treatment  and  led 
to  our  release. 


0** Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life.  439 

When  the  French  war  broke  out,  Gustave  Flourens  went  to 
France.  After  the  "  war  of  the  Commune  "  he  was  charged  with 
having  engaged  in  it  and  he  was  shot.  Rossell  and  others  were 
shot  twelve  months  or  more  after  the  cessation  of  hostilities. 

Without  entering  into  the  discussion  of  any  bad  acts  that  might 
have  been  committed  in  war  times,  when  the  blood  was  hot  and 
there  was  killing  all  around,  I  hold  it  was  cruel  to  be  knocking  men 
on  the  head  so  long  after  the  war  was  over,  and  when  I  hold  an 
opinion  I  never  withhold  any  act  or  expression  that  is  necessary  to 
back  it  when  required. 

A  funeral  for  these  men  was  held  in  New  York,  and,  like  many 
others,  I  went  to  look  at  it.  As  I  was  standing  on  the  corner  of 
Fifth  street  and  Bowery,  General  Ryan,  who  was  lately  murdered 
in  Cuba,  seeing  me,  came  out  of  his  carriage,  and  invited  me  in.  A 
few  weeks  before  this  he  had  written  me  a  letter  offering  his  sword 
and  himself  to  Ireland  whenever  there  was  any  fighting  to  be  done 
against  England,  and  believing  he  ivould  fight,  and  fight  bravely- — 
as  bravely  as  he  died — in  our  cause,  I  had  some  respect  for  him.  I 
declined  his  invitation  to  a  seat  in  the  carriage.  "  What !  "  said  he, 
"  don't  you  disapprove  of  the  shooting  of  these  men  in  cold  blood 
now  that  the  war  is  over?  " 

"  I  do,  certainly,"  said  I. 

"  Then  is  it  afraid  to  attend  their  funeral  you  are  on  account  of 
the  cry  of  '  mad  dog'  that  has  been  raised  against  them — you  know 
that  cry  was  raised  against  yourself?" 

This  nettled  me  a  little.  I  bade  good-day  to  O'Feely  Byron, 
who  was  with  me.  It  was  a  cowardly  thing  to  be  afraid,  when  my 
conscience  told  me  I  was  right,  and  with  a  "  Come  on,  then,  General, 
I'm  not  afraid,"  I  went  to  my  grave. 

As  I  am  writing  ray  own  obituary,  there  is  one  point  on  which, 
for  my  domestic  peace,  I  do  not  wish  my  character  to  stand  de- 
famed. The  Irish  religious — the  ultra-Catholic  press  that  often  hit 
at  me  for  my  connection  with  Irish  revolution — hit  at  me  now  for 
being  a  Communist  and  being  a  free  lover,  aud  for  my  connection 
with  Tennie  Claflin.  She  happened  to  be  in  the  funeral,  but  let  me 
solemnly  assure  my  readers  I  never  laid  an  eye  on  her  that  day, 
or  any  other  day  before  or  since,  and  I  never  spoke  to  the  woman 
in  my  life.  This,  I  hope,  will  satisfy  my  friends  of  the  Boston  Pilot, 
and  all  other  friends. 

I  desire  to  take  my  leave  in  words  of  peace.  My  course  in  the 
Old  Land  has  brought  me  the  esteem  of  the  people  there.  It  is 
more  than  a  reward  to  me  for  anything  I  have  tried  to  do  to  uphold 
the  Irish  name.  Anything  I  have  done  since  I  came  to  this  country 
has  been  done  in  the  effort  to  make  my  present  and  future  life  con- 
sistent with  the  past.  My  personal  interests  alone  in  view,  I  have 
made  mistakes  and  will  possibly  make  more.  I  have  retained  my 
opinions  and  my  independence  when  it  was  expected  I  would  run  in 
ruts  laid  down  by  political  tricksters  of  every  kind,  for  Irishmen  to 
travel  in. 


44:0  O' }  Donovan  Rosscfs  Prison  Life. 

I  will  not  be  a  slave  if  I  can  live  otherwise.  With  all  due  res- 
pect for  others  who  hold  opinions  contrary  to  mine  in  the  politics  of 
America,  I  will  take  my  own  course  there.  But  as  regards  the  poli- 
tics that  lead  to  the  Independence  of  Ireland,  to  the  helping  of  the 
revolutionists  there,  I  am  not  so  independent  as  not  to  be  prepared 
to  bend  in  any  way  their  real  friends  deem  necessary  to  bring  them 
practical  aid. 

I  desire  to  retain  the  good  opinion  of  the  "  men  at  home,"  and 
indeed,  of  all  men.  If  I  am  anything,  it  is  Irishmen  have  made  me 
it,  and  without  their  aid  I  can  do  nothing  or  become  nothing 
further. 

It  is  to  do  my  part  towards  enabling  my  countrymen  to  judge 
justly  of  my  conduct  that  I  introduce  this  matter  of  the  "  Commune." 
Those  who  know  me  need  no  explanation.  Those  who  do  not,  may 
read  the  following  extract  from  some  of  Gustave  Flourens'  letters 
on  my  behalf : 

THE  FRENCH  PRESS  ON  IRELAND. 

GUSTAVE  FLOURENS  ON  O'DONOVAN  ROSSA   IN  THE   "  MARSEILLIASE." 

"  While  the  Olliver  Ministry  holds  the  prisoner  in  St.  Pelagie,  the  deputy  of  the 
first  circumscription  of  Paris — Henry  Rochefort;  in  England  the  Gladstone  Cabinet, 
a  Cabinet  of  honest  men,  also  gets  tortured  by  its  shirri,  the  Irish  representative, 
0 'Donovan  Rossa.  The  Marseillaise  has  already  published  a  moving  letter  from  this 
unfortunate  victim  of  the  English  "Liberals."  The  Irishman  has  just  published  a 
second.  This  letter  has  been  reproduced  by  the  English  press,  the  Standard,  too, 
which  has  accused  us  of  inventing  the  first  letter  of  the  citizen  Rossa. 

I  send  you  the  literal  translation  of  the  letter  given  by  the  Irishman.  All  com- 
mentary is  superfluous.  At  some  steps  from  the  splendid  mansion  from  which  the 
House  of  Lords  governs  England  are  to  be  witnessed  atrocities  which  had  no  parallel 
even  in  the  Neapolitan  prisons  of  the  Bourbons — those  same  prisons  which  so  horri- 
fied Mr.  Gladstone. 

I  do  not  know  Rossa,  but  I  love  him  for  his  simphcity,  the  calmness  and  the  firm- 
ness with  which  he  relates  his  frightful  torture. 

GUSTAVE  FLOURENS." 

The  man  who  would  "  run  me  down  "  for  going  to  that  man's 
funeral  must  be  very  hard  to  please  indeed. 


(/Donovan  Bosses  Prison  Life, 


THE  SOLDIER  O'  FORTUNE. 

(Printed  in  the  Dublin  Irish  People,  1883.) 

Friends  of  the  Irish  people,  you 
Who'd  right  your  country's  wrong, 

Will  hear  from  me  a  word  or  two ; 
My  tale  will  not  be  long. 

In  old  Iov  Laoghaire  by  the  hills 

My  youthful  days  passed  by. 
That  "  Famine  "  came  which  filled  the  keels  ;* 

1  saw  my  father  die. 

The  bailiff  with  his  notice  came, 
The  bit  of  ground  was  gone  ; 
saw  the  roof-tree  in  a  flame, 
The  crow-bar  work  was  done. 

With  neither  house,  nor  bed,  nor  bread 

The  work-house  was  my  doom  ; 
And  on  my  jacket  soon  1  read, 

"The  Union  of  Macroom." 

My  mother  died  o'  broken  heart ; 

My  uncle  from  the  town 
Came  for  her  with  a  horse  and  cart, 

And  buried  her  in  Gleann 

1  joined  the  red-coats  then — mo  Uif 

What  did  my  father  say  ? 
And  1  was  sent  before  a  year 

On  service  to  Bombay. 

I  thought  to  be  a  pauper 

Was  the  greatest  human  curse; 
But  fighting  in  a  robber's  cause 

1  felt  was  something  worse. 

I  helped  to  murder  and  to  slay 

Whole  tribes  of  India's  sons  ; 
And  1  spent  many  a  sultry  day 

Blowing  Sepoys  from  our  guns 

*  Churchyards. 


i42  C  Donovan  Bossds  Prixon  Lift. 

I  told  these  things  to  Father  Ned — 

The  murder  and  the  booty. 
"  They  are  no  sins  to  you,"  he  said, 

M  You  had  to  do  your  duty." 

And  when  that  duty  here  was  done, 

A  journey  home  I  made  ; 
And  ail  my  friends  being  dead  and  gone, 

I  joined  the  Pope's  Brigade. 

I  got  some  medals  on  my  breast 

For  serving  this  campaign ; 
A.nd  next  I'm  found  in  the  far  West 

A-soldiering  again. 

With  fearless  Captain  Billy  O* 

I  joined  the  Fenian  band, 
Andl   swore  one  day  to  strike  a  blow 

To  free  my  native  land. 

Back  in  that  sinking  isle  again, 
Where  landlords  drain  our  blood, 

Where  friends  are  scattered,  starved,  and  slain, 
I'm  told  I'm  cursed  by  God. 

If  I  can  swear  my  lifelong  days 

To  fight  from  pole  to  pole, 
For  any  power,  however  base 

With  safety  to  my  soul, 

It  cannot  be  by  God's  decree 

I'm  cursed,  denounced,  and  banned 

Because  1  swear  one  day  to  free 

My  trampled  native  land. 

0'Donovi.n  Bossa 


BOSTON  COLLEGE 


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